Treacherous Affairs
by NeverNik
Summary: Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Male Slut of the Year three years running, can have anyone he wants. So why does he want Hermione Granger, the most unattainable virgin in school? Because the highest fruits in the tree taste the sweetest, that's why. Dramione and other pairings. Rated M for profanity and sex scenes. 2019 updated version. Treacherous Affairs Part 2 out now!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone,**

 **This story is based on the 1782 novel** _ **Les Liaisons dangereuses**_ **, and in turn, the 1988 movie** _ **Dangerous Liaisons**_ **and its 1999 adaptation** _ **Cruel Intentions**_ **.**

 **I've changed the ending for this fic, as the original ending requires Draco (in the way I've cast him) to be killed, which seems an awful waste.**

 **Dramione. OOC characters. AU, no Voldemort. M for profanity and sex scenes.**

* * *

Blaise spilled himself into Pansy's body with a groan as she enthusiastically faked a matching orgasm.

Merlin knows why she bothered, he thought. If I wasn't a good enough fuck for her, she could either show me how she wanted it, or throw me out of her bed.

Anyway, it was a moot point. He was bugging out, so the Muggle military say in the movies. In fact, he met her imperious summons only to tell her, in privacy, that he'd met someone else. A beautiful red-headed angel called Ginny Weasley. Someone who was open and honest and warm. Not cold and spiky and devious.

He'd barely opened the door to her bedroom when she pounced. She didn't even give him time to open his mouth before she'd undone his fly with her painted talons and stuffed his cock down her throat. Once she had Blaise hard, she straddled him, wet, slick and _sans_ panties.

Blaise shut his eyes and prayed for the ending to come quickly. He couldn't guarantee his erection to last for any length of time.

Luckily he came before he, well, couldn't.

* * *

She tried to cuddle after they fucked. She must have read somewhere that it was the sort of thing people did after being intimate. But her weight across his body felt like solid guilt; already he'd cheated on Ginny.

He raised Pansy to a sitting position and eased her off his limp dick. _Scourgifying_ themselves, he tucked himself back in, faced her and said they needed to talk.

She hopped up and sat on the edge of the bed, inspecting her nails. 'Okay. Talk.'

'I want this relationship to end, Pansy.'

She turned her head slowly and looked at him. 'Pardon? I thought you said you said you wanted our relationship to end, or something.'

Blaise sighed. 'You heard correctly.'

She rolled over onto her stomach, swinging her long legs in the air at the knee as she studied him. 'So, who is she, then?' she asked, sounding bored.

He didn't want to tell her. It was fraught with danger. But she'd find out eventually.

'Ginny Weasley.'

She sputtered, then started to laugh. 'That red-headed, freckled fright? Looks like she's never had butter melt in her mouth, let alone had a cock in it?'

Blaise looked at her with distaste and said something that, in hindsight, he probably shouldn't have said. 'At least her cunt will be tight enough for me to feel it.'

Her face closed off and she slowly sat up. 'Do you really want to go there?' she snarled.

'Pansy, look, it was fun, right? But we're just not suited for each other. The sex is average; we fight more than we fuck. There's got to be a better bloke out there for you. Now's your chance to find him.'

Her bluster was just for show; she collapsed backwards on to the bed. 'Fine,' she said, bored. 'But I dumped you, all right?'

'Whatever.' He knew appearances were very important to her.

Blaise looked at her, sprawled across the bed in her dishevelled skirt, shirt and tie, twirling her hair around a finger, humming a Weird Sisters tune. He should have kept his yap shut, but in that brief space of time he felt a bit sorry for her.

'Have you ever had an orgasm, Pansy?'

She fixed her cold green eyes on him. 'Get out!' she screamed.

He got out, and counted himself lucky for escaping unscathed.

He should have known better.


	2. Chapter 2

A smile of contentment settled on Pansy's lips as she dropped her bra and panties to the floor. 'Found you.'

Draco Malfoy lazily angled his head over the bath edge into the changing area of the Prefect's Bathroom. Steam rose in fat, satisfying curls above the water, and droplets of water beaded on his toned shoulders, arms, chest and face. His wet hair looked darker under the influence of the water in it.

Slytherin had played a gruesome Quidditch match against Ravenclaw this afternoon, conducted in wretched visibility in the pouring rain. He was so fucking cold and wet that he barely cared that Slytherin won.

He rewarded himself with a long, leisurely bath in the Prefect's Bathroom, feeling the tension in his body slowly unravel. Closing his eyes, he gripped his cock under the water and thought, for at least the thousandth time, about _her._

Her lips. Her large, expressive eyes. Her beautiful body. Her wild, untameable hair, spread across his pillow.

Merlin, Granger. What will it take to bed you?

With a grunt, he wrenched himself away from his impossible dream and applied himself instead to a more feasible target for tonight: divesting another willing Sixth Year student of her virginity.

His cock was getting very clean from the attention he was paying it when Pansy made her presence known.

On paper, she was a clear ten out of ten. In reality, she was cold, calculating and utterly devious. Much like himself, Draco realised.

What would it be like to fuck himself?

'This is the Prefect's Bathroom, Pans,' he drawled.

Pansy cupped her beasts and examined them, as if she were testing them for weight. 'Good. I'm in the right place.' She prowled over to the bath and hopped in.

'Come on in, Pansy,' Draco muttered with his eyes closed.

She shrieked. 'Slytherin's balls, it's hot!' she complained.

He opened an eye. 'If you can't stand the heat…' he said meaningfully.

'I believe I'll cope.'

Draco let go of his now flaccid cock and sighed. 'Have you become a Prefect?' he asked. 'If so, may I offer my congratulations.'

Pansy snorted. 'Godric, no. This place is wasting enough of my time as it is. No, a little bird told me the password, and surprisingly, he wasn't bullshitting me, for once.'

'Aren't passwords a rather funny sort of thing to shout out when a bloke's coming?' Draco wondered. 'Or did you use _Veritaserum_ on poor old Zabini?'

Pansy rolled her eyes. 'As fascinating as this conversation is, I have a proposal to put to you. It's right up your street.'

Goosebumps rippled over Draco's exposed skin. He slid under the water and resurfaced a little further away from Pansy then before. 'I'm listening.'

Pansy raised her torso out of the water to cool down a bit. But also so Draco could have the opportunity to inspect her wet, perfect breasts with nipples that pebbled in the cool air. She could be considerate when she chose.

'Do you know Ginny Weasley, Sixth Year Gryffindor?'

Draco thought for a moment. 'She's on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.'

'The ginger tomboy, yes. With a tribe of oafish Weasley males to make sure her virtue doesn't end up trampled into the mud like so many of the other slags in this castle.'

'That's a harsh way to talk about yourself, Pansy,' Draco smirked.

She ignored him. 'I want you to seduce her, Malfoy.'

Draco waited for the punch line, but it didn't come. 'Why the hell would I want to do that?'

Pansy tutted. 'For the challenge, dear boy! Think about it. Sporty, naïve, six irate older brothers plus a father to hoodwink if you successfully teach her what's it like to fly – without a broom between her legs, that is.'

Draco did think about it. It was true that she'd prove a particular challenge to overcome. He got easily bored, and liked to plot schemes that stimulated him intellectually, as well as physically. But the Weaselette was also best friends with Granger. And that's where he'll hop off this particular train wreck.

'Sorry, love,' he said, putting some regret into his tone. 'I'm developing a plan of my own that clashes with yours.'

Un-fucking-believable! The great Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Male Slut of the Year three years running, was turning down a shag! 'What plan?' she snapped. 'Going to start fucking all the boys, too?'

'Really, Parkinson. Such churlishness does not become you. As it so happens, I have my eye on another virgin. Granger.'

'Granger?' Pansy laughed so much she slipped off the edge of the bath and toppled in. She came up for air, spluttering. 'You'll never fuck her.'

'Give it time,' Draco muttered, loath to relinquish his dream.

'The Gryffindor Princess? Born with her nose in a book and a broom up her arse? Shit, I'd sell tickets to her deflowering.'

Draco's face hardened. 'Laugh all you want. You think the She-Weasel's a challenge? She'd be a walk in the park compared to Granger! Granger's canny. And doesn't trust Slytherins. She's always besting me in every fucking class we have together. I want her,' he spat. 'I want her in my bed, coming for me, opening her body, and her mind, and her heart, to me. I want it all.'

'And then what?'

'Huh?'

'And then what?' Pansy repeated. 'After you've fucked her? When your cock is streaked with her virginal blood?'

He wasn't offended by Pansy's deliberate crassness. 'You know me,' he murmured.

'I don't quite know everything about you,' Pansy smiled. She slid closer to him. 'How come two beautiful, intelligent, sexually active Slytherins such as us have never ended up in the same bed together?'

'Interesting question,' Draco mused.

'Well,' Pansy purred, walking her fingers up Draco's bicep, 'I wish you all the best in your endeavour. And - I tell you what. If you provide evidence that you've deflowered the Great Untouchable Hermione Granger, I'll give you a reward.'

'Oh, yeah?' Draco drawled.

She leaned in, and gently tugged Draco's earlobe with her teeth. 'I'll let you sleep with me.'

Huh.

He'd heard that Parkinson sucked cock like a pro. And that no-one had been able to make her come.

And could he really live up to the title of Male Slut of the Year if he hasn't shagged Pansy Parkinson? Her notch would be rather noticeably absent from his broomstick.

He held out his rather pruny hand to her. 'You have a deal.'

Pansy shook it. 'Good luck,' she purred. She climbed out of the bath and headed to the changing area, knowing that Draco was watching her pert bottom sway with each step.

She smirked to herself. Tits and ass.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco slowly opened an eye. Sunday morning.

Excellent!

No time like the present to start his new project.

Nude, he hopped out of bed and searched for some clothes.

'Draco?' a feminine voice murmured. 'Where are you going?'

Startled, he turned back to his bed. He'd forgotten about… about… Jennifer? Jessica?

Whoever it was watched him hungrily as the blue-green lake-light from his single bedroom window rippled over his pale, toned skin.

Draco pulled on some boxer briefs and climbed back onto his bed. Reaching Jennifer/Jessica/whoever, he cupped a hand behind her head and kissed her, still noting her response in the hitch of her breath and the arch of her back, even though his mind was on other things.

'Now, my dear, you know the deal,' he smiled.

Her shoulders slumped. 'Just one night,' she mumbled.

'That's right.' He hopped off the bed and pulled the covers away, revealing her naked body. He studied her, but his libido showed not the slightest hint of interest. She was blonde and blue-eyed, leggy but not much in the way of tits. Insipid, really. 'I can't be seen to be playing favourites among the girls, can I?' he grinned.

Gods, he's a jerk, thought Julia unhappily. Then, as Draco took her hands, gently kissed them and pulled her out of bed, she added: but he's _so_ damn good...

* * *

Single for the day again, Draco prowled to the Great Hall for breakfast. Choosing his seat with care, he had an excellent view of the section of the Gryffindor table where Granger and the Weasel usually sat.

The ginger thorn was present, cramming food into his mouth like it was his last meal, but the rose was absent. Bugger.

'Zabini,' he asked, who was sitting nearby, sipping coffee and making moon eyes at the She-Weasel, 'have you seen Granger this morning?'

'Hmm?'

Draco sighed. 'Earth to Head Boy,' he snapped, following up with a perfectly lobbed bread roll. 'Granger? The Head Girl? Have you seen her this morning?'

Zabini, wondering why a bread roll had ricocheted off his head and onto his plate, said 'Sunday mornings she tutors the Traumatised First Years in Potions.'

Ah, yes. Saint Granger of the Bleeding Heart. She'd probably try to nurse a werewolf back to health during a full moon if one presented to her with a sore fang.

'That must stick in Snape's craw,' Draco commented.

Both boys looked at the imposing Potions Professor, who was reading _The Daily Prophet_ over his coffee at the Head Table.

'According to Granger, he's torn,' said Blaise. 'He can't bear the fact that the 'bushy-haired-know-it-all' is getting better results out of the First Years than he is, but on the other hand, they're getting better results without him having to lift a finger.'

Okay. So Granger was out of commission for the morning. No matter. He'd find her this afternoon.

* * *

'Zabini!' Draco saw Blaise leave the Head's portrait hole and head towards the stairs with the Weaselette hanging off his arm. 'Is Granger inside?'

Blaise stopped and turned around. 'Hey, Malfoy. You remember Ginny, don't you?'

Draco, out of habit, turned his not inconsiderable charm on the red-head. 'Who could forget such a talented Quidditch player?' he asked, taking her hand and kissing it gently. 'Good afternoon, Miss Weasley.'

Wide-eyed, Ginny edged closer into Blaise's protective arm.

Ah, thought Draco happily. That's how he likes his women. Either intimidated as hell, or beneath him, begging for more.

Zabini rolled his eyes. 'Since you ask, no, Granger isn't inside. On Sunday afternoons she works in the Infirmary as part of her pre-Healer course prep.'

'Oh.' Draco didn't know that, since he was as healthy as a horse, despite his pale features. In fact, he wasn't entirely certain where the Infirmary was. 'When does she have free time?'

Zabini huffed a laugh. 'Yeah, sure, mate.' He and Ginny turned around and headed towards the stairs.

Draco eyed the Head Dorm's portrait hopefully, but the cranky old dowager witch in the portrait gave him the fingers and strode off.

Draco headed off. He knew his limits. Not even he could charm the old bat into letting him into the Dorm so he could get a gander at Granger's schedule.

* * *

It took Draco a few wrong turns and the mild bullying of a Second Year with his arm in a sling to locate the Infirmary, but he made it. He stepped inside the door and peered around.

It was a massive arched hall with an elaborate patterned and corniced ceiling. Rather too fine for a sick bay, was Draco's personal opinion. The late afternoon sun streamed through the large windows onto pristinely made-up beds, and pooled onto the flagstone floor. A few patients were dotted here and there, lying in beds, moaning, groaning or sleeping.

Draco wrinkled his nose. At least it didn't pong of unguents or unpleasant bodily fluids. Or, even worse, bodily solids. There are only so many things a Malfoy can tolerate. He should probably cross 'Healer' off his vocation list.

A tall boy with curly brown hair, spectacles and a Ravenclaw pin bore down on him. 'Can I help you?' he asked pompously.

Draco looked behind him, but no-one was there. This oaf must be speaking to him.

'Do you know who I am?' he demanded imperiously.

The boy's eyes widened. 'Bless my soul, you must have memory loss!' he exclaimed. 'Please come with me' – he took hold of Draco's sleeve and tried to propel him to a bed.

Draco removed the boy's hand from his person with a grimace of distaste. 'I am Draco Malfoy, you witless twit,' he snarled. 'I want to speak to Granger.'

The Ravenclaw looked even more startled than before. 'H-Hermione 'G-Granger?' he stuttered, pushing up his glasses, which had slipped down his nose.

'Yes, 'H-Hermione G-Granger,' Draco said, cruelly mimicking the idiot's stammer. 'Look, I won't take long. Just get her for me, all right?'

'You can't see her,' the boy snapped. 'She's with a patient and can't be disturbed.'

Draco peered around him and noticed that one of the beds was closed off by screens. Some sniffling, snuffling and sobbing rose from within. Draco's eyes picked out the bottom of a pair of shapely legs as the owner of the legs uttered soothing platitudes to the creator of the noise.

'Can't you swap with her?'

Ravenclaw Boy was starting to get pissed off. 'No, as it happens,' he snapped. The patient is a girl.'

'So? When you become a Healer, are you planning to heal only the male population, then?'

Ravenclaw's cheeks burned a dull red. 'No, of course not' –

'So, what's it going to take to get Granger to soothe my fevered brow?' Draco asked, wiggling a suggestive eyebrow.

The boy flung out an arm, pointing back to the Infirmary entrance. 'Get out!' he yelled.

Draco, laughing, turned around and sauntered out.

'Good grief, Jason, what was all the shouting for?' Hermione's head was poking around one of the screens, and she was staring at him in consternation.

He rolled his eyes. 'It was a malingerer,' he said shortly.

Hermione looked at him doubtfully. 'If you don't mind me saying so, you really need to work on your bedside manner.' She popped behind the screen again.

Jason sighed, and headed back to the dispensary, where he was cataloguing potions before that foul Slytherin slid in.

Gods, Granger's hot, he thought wistfully. Even when she's telling me off.

* * *

Eleven pm, and Draco was still afoot. Not to track down the elusive H. Granger this time. Nor was it to meet a girl for a shag. No. Draco was off to the library to finish an assignment for Ancient Runes. He didn't like his comrades in Slytherin to know he actually studied. He spent years cultivating the image that his high marks (second to Granger's, of course) came about naturally. Therefore, he often found himself studying at all odd hours of the day and night.

He tiptoed into the Library and cast a mild _Lumos_ when he was inside. Heading into the bowels of the enormous repository, he noticed a faint light shining between some shelves to his right. He stopped and listened, but there wasn't any sound. Intrigued, he tiptoed around the shelf and discovered a student at a table, slumped over their papers, asleep. Their wand still cast light over their work. Their hair tumbled everywhere.

He knew that hair.

He inched around her table, and smiled.

Granger. His Sleeping Beauty.

Carefully, he drew out a chair and sat opposite her. He'd never had the opportunity to study her up close before – she was always on the move, even if she was sitting down. She had a light dusting of freckles over her nose, and her cheeks were well-defined by her bone structure. Her mouth – _Merlin_ – her mouth was a rosy red hue, with full lips that had him feeling a bit tight downstairs as he imagined touching them with his own. Or wrapped around his erection.

Her hair had finally submitted to her will after four or five solid years of battle. Its rich brown colour reminded Draco of chocolate and her curls looked fat and luscious. His hand twitched. He'd always wanted to do this. Dare he?

Oh, yes. He dared.

He stretched out a hand, slowly, and with the lightest touch, gently pulled one of her curls. It sprang back with lustrous life. He smiled.

She was going to wake with a crick in her neck, though. It looked like she fell asleep mid-scribble – her head was resting on a piece of parchment, and her quill was still clutched in her hand. He a saw a bookmark lying on the parchment under her chin. He took out his wand, and with the utmost delicacy and precision, transfigured the bookmark into a cushion. It gently engorged and grew, lifting Hermione's head off the table. She snuffled and wrinkled her nose – sending Draco's heart leaping into his throat – but she didn't wake.

Satisfied with his work, he silently arose from the desk and tiptoed to another part of the library.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday shone its weary, watery self through Draco's bedroom window. This time, he cast a cautious eye to the other side of his bed before leaping out in the nuddy.

It happened to be one of the rare occasions where he'd slept alone the previous evening. He pondered. He wasn't entirely sure he liked it. It was nice to curl up against the warm skin of another body when you're half-asleep in the middle of the night.

What do you know? Draco's a cuddler.

Right. Today he was going to talk to Granger, come hell or high water. He had Potions and Runes with Gryffindor, and there was a Prefect's meeting after school, and Granger was rostered to patrol that night with… oh, hang on, where's his damn roster? Ah! Here we go. The Gryffindor Patil.

He smiled while checking his shirt and tie in the mirror. A little bit of the old Malfoy charm, and miracles often happen. He'd have a little word with Miss Gryffindor Patil today. The sooner, the better.

* * *

 **Potions**

 **In the ingredients section:**

'Granger! You're looking particularly' –

'I've no time to tolerate your thinly-veiled insults this morning, Malfoy. Snape's paired me with Neville, again! I'm sure he does it just to bring my marks down.' Hermione grabbed a bottle of Essence of Comfrey off the shelf, considered it, then replaced it with Dittany. 'Better to be safe than sorry,' she muttered darkly, then stomped back to her worktable, which was doing an excellent impression of looking like a bombsite under Neville's management.

* * *

 **Mid-experiment:**

'No! Neville, don't add the' –

The remainder of Hermione's sentence was lost to history as a spectacular 'bang' from their cauldron sent both students catapulting into the air.

Draco, who was working at the table behind the hapless pair, dropped his ladle and caught Hermione before she hit the floor. He smirked to himself. One of his smoother moves, if he said so himself.

Hermione blew her wild hair out of her eyes and looked up at her saviour. 'Oh,' she wheezed. She brushed herself down and blushed a little. 'Er, thanks, Malfoy,' she said, before glancing at Neville. Sadly, no-one thought to catch him, and he was now laid out cold on the floor.

Before either Hermione or Draco could say another word, Professor Snape arrived at what was left of the worktable, steam practically billowing out of his ears. 'What in the name of Slytherin's slippers happened here?' he bellowed.

Hermione sighed and let herself be subjected to a good five minutes-worth of Snape's tantruming, since the actual instigator of the disaster wasn't capable of responding.

Draco returned to his own worktable, happily ignoring Pany's pointed looks. From a tiny acorn, mighty trees grow, he thought.

* * *

 **Ancient Runes**

Basically a write-off, as far as Draco was concerned. He sat across the aisle from Granger, and thus was in a perfect position to gain her attention with the use of delicately-crafted notes, but Madam Pomfrey turned up at the start of class, explaining that Professor Babbling was unwell, and asked if Hermione could conduct a revision class in her stead.

Blushing with pride, Hermione grabbed her textbook and sailed to the front of the classroom, where she led the class in a torturous revision quiz so horrible it reduced the girls to tears of frustration and left Draco with a pounding headache that necessitated a legitimate visit to the Infirmary.

* * *

 **Prefects' meeting**

'Right, everyone, can you pipe down please? Oi! Is anyone listening to me?' wailed Hermione.

'Shut your fucking pie holes!' hollered Blaise.

The Prefects sat as quiet and still as mice.

'Er, thanks, Zabini,' said Hermione, looking at him askance. 'Tonight we've got the usual regular items to go through, but we also need to get cracking on organising this year's Yule Ball, which I'm sure will be a beautiful and joyful occasion. For those who will be going,' she tacked on.

Draco's ears pricked up. Is Cinderella is planning to miss her own ball?

…'have received another complaint about non-Prefects using the Prefect's Bathroom,' continued Hermione, whipping through the agenda with lightning speed. 'Really people, it's very simple. We Prefects work hard and for long hours to help keep the school running. The Prefect's Bathroom is a perk that I'm not afraid to say we deserve. People who get to go to bed at reasonable hours of the night, and don't work seven freaking days a week to keep body and soul together – the school's body and soul' – she clarified – 'can jolly well sod off and use their own dingy communal bathrooms. Therefore. Don't give out the password to the Prefect's Bathroom. To. Anyone.'

Draco was amused to note that she was glaring straight at him. He smirked, raising his hands in innocence. 'Not guilty, m'lady,' he said. 'I was already in the bath, innocently bathing, when Parkinson broke in. May you tie me to a chair and dose me with _Veritaserum_ if I tell a lie.'

With raised eyebrows, Hermione replied 'Thank you, Malfoy. Everyone, the new password for the bathroom is ' _cataracta_.' On a final note, if I have to change that bloody password once more this year, I will take up Malfoy's suggestion, tie each and every one of you up and dose you with _Veritaserum_ until I find out who is incapable of keeping their yap shut and shove their Prefect's pin where the sun doesn't shine!'

Everyone stared at Hermione in silence with round eyes.

Wow. Touchy.

Draco glanced at the Weasel, but he didn't seem to notice Hermione's frosty tone, not too far off Snape's own personal standard. Maybe that was the way she normally spoke to him.

'Granger,' Draco said with concern (a most unusual emotion for him, and therefore not one the general public saw regularly) 'you seem a little wound up. May I recommend a nice, long soak in the Prefect's Bathroom?'

She looked at him uncertainly. He _appeared_ to be concerned, but she wasn't born yesterday. A concerned Malfoy is as rare as a talking Kneazle. Best to assume he's taking the piss, which he did ninety-nine percent of the time.

'Yeah, cheers, Malfoy,' she said witheringly. 'But as it happens, I have patrol duty this evening, so I will have to defer rest and relaxation until I have some spare time, which will be approximately eleven months from now.'

Draco boggled. 'So, after we graduate, you mean?'

'Yes. I'm sure I can fit a few days in between pre-reading for University.'

Malfoy was a little alarmed. That's girl's wound up tighter than a Muggle cuckoo clock. Hasn't her alleged best friend even noticed? He looked over to Weasley once more, and was promptly grossed out by the sight of the ginger whinger inspecting the contents of his nose, now on his finger.

Weasley. The poster boy for Pureblood inbreeding.

* * *

The meeting broke up. Hermione tiredly stretched her back and gathered her things. Parvati told her that she'd swapped with another Prefect for this evening's rounds, but never told her who it was. Obviously it wasn't Ron, who bolted out of the meeting room like a bat on a broomstick. In fact, when she looked up, the only person who remained in the room was –

'Ready, patrol buddy?' asked Draco with a feral grin and glinting grey eyes.

* * *

'I'm sorry, Malfoy, but it's simply not possible. But thank you for asking.'

Hermione and Draco were patrolling the Ravenclaw tower when Draco casually asked Hermione if she would accompany him to Hogsmeade this weekend. He was expecting an initial refusal, so he didn't take the rejection to heart.

'Let me guess,' Draco whispered. 'You're too busy?'

'As a matter of fact, yes,' Hermione whispered tartly. 'I have tutoring, my duties in the Infirmary, S.P.E.W. meetings, the bloody Yule Ball committee, helping Ron with his homework, doing my own homework if time permits – I'm just busy, okay?'

Even someone as self-centred as Draco could see that this girl that was sailing close to the edge. Asking Hermione if she thought she'd taken on too many duties would obviously give him a one-way ticket to getting a slap across the face, so he tried another angle. 'What does McGonagall have to say about your extra-curricular work?'

Hermione suddenly found the flagstone steps to Ravenclaw tower to be rather fascinating. 'She's fine with it,' she snapped, _sotto voce_.

A corner of Draco's mouth turned up. He was a connoisseur of truth evasion, and could tell an amateur liar from one hundred metres away. So the old battle-axe doesn't know the extent of Hermione's extra activities, eh? Interesting. He'll file that away.

'Granger, I wasn't kidding about that bath, you know,' he whispered. 'It would do you a world of good. You could even study in there if you were desperate.'

A pained expression crossed Hermione's face. 'I don't know why you're being nice, but I can't be bothered trying to second-guess your motives, so tonight I'll take you on face value and thank you for your concern, but basically, it's none of your biz.' She rolled her shoulders, trying to work the kinks out.

'I can help with that.'

Hermione looked at Draco uncertainly in the moonlight that spilled onto the flagstone corridor. 'Help with what?'

'Your shoulders. They look like they're set in stone. I can work some of the tension out, if you want.'

Hermione leapt away from him. 'No bloody way, mate.'

Draco sighed. 'Look, there's no need to react like I'm going to rape you. All I'm offering is a shoulder rub over your clothes. There's nothing remotely sexual or illegal about it. And I know what I'm doing.'

Hermione stood there in the corridor, unsure. On the one hand, she could really do with help working the knots out of her shoulders. On the other hand, it's… Malfoy.

'All right,' she said hesitatingly. 'But if you try anything, I'll hex you!'

'Duly noted,' Draco replied.

* * *

Ushering her into a lonely classroom, he sat her down and sat behind her, while she pushed her long hair to one side. He ran his long fingers across the top of her shoulders once, twice, three times.

'Look, are you going to do anything useful, or - oh my GOD,' Hermione sighed, as his thumbs kneaded the hardened muscles firmly.

'Too hard?' Draco whispered.

'Gods no, it's amazing, oh yeah,' she breathed. Draco instantly hardened, but things only went from bad to worse.

'Oh, yes, that's the spot, right there, don't stop, Malfoy!' when he massaged some life into her right shoulder – her quill-writing side.

'Harder, Malfoy, harder!' she moaned when he manipulated her trapezius muscles.

'Omigod please, I need more!' she begged when Draco finally dropped his hands from her body.

'Not tonight, my dear,' he said regretfully. 'We still have patrols to complete.'

Hermione looked shell-shocked when she shakily stood up from her chair. 'That was… really nice, Malfoy,' she said, blushing. 'Thanks.'

'You sure you don't want to come to Hogsmeade with me?' he asked gently.

She blushed even more. 'Look, um, I'll be honest with you,' she said. 'I've been told about your reputation with girls. I don't want to be another conquest for you. I want something better than that.' She looked him in the eye. 'And I don't think you can provide it.'

Draco seethed inside, but schooled his beautiful features into those of regret. 'Surely a condemned man is allowed to state his case?'

Hermione prevaricated. 'Perhaps we can talk about this later?' she suggested. 'I want to get to bed before the sun rises. For a change.'

'Of course.'

They both set off down the corridor. Draco was a little slower than Hermione. In truth, he was having a spot of trouble walking. It felt like someone had shoved Professor Sprout's gigantic prize-winning cucumber down his pants.

Not to mention her enormous brussels sprouts.

* * *

Draco contemplated his bedroom door, getting his thoughts in order.

Number one: continue working on Granger.

Number two: find out which bastard told her about his reputation and slaughter them, slowly and painfully.

Number three, which upon reflection, should be promoted to Number one: do something about his hard-on before a serious medical incident occurred.

He entered his bedroom, and leaned against the closed door with a sigh.

'Took your sweet time, Malfoy.'

He glanced at his bed. Parvati Patil, collecting her dues for swapping patrol with Draco tonight, lay in his bed, nude except for a come-hither smile.

He returned it with interest, divesting himself of his clothing in record time before leaping onto his bed.

'Bloody hell, Malfoy! Is that all for me?'

He smirked as he fed his aching erection into Parvati's hot, wet, willing mouth. 'Yes, my dear. Every inch.'

* * *

 **A/N: According to Google Translate's Latin,** _ **cataracta**_ **means 'waterfall.' It also means 'cataracts' and a host of other interesting things. Who says fanfiction teaches you nothing, eh?**


	5. Chapter 5

Draco studied the studious girl across the aisle from him in Potions. Hermione was completely caught up in the so-called thrall of the lesson: scribbling furiously away on her parchment, shooting her hand straight into the air when Snape asked a question – even rhetorical ones – and rolling her eyes when Snape deliberately passed her over in order to wring an answer out of someone else. If he picked a twit like Crabbe or Goyle for a response, she'd clench her teeth together in frustration. If Snape picked someone like, well, himself, she would listen to his perfect response, but her eyes would never meet his. Not for want of trying on his part.

Am I obsessed with her? Draco wondered. What is this funny feeling I have in the middle of my chest thereabouts? I feel tense when I can't look at her. I want to smack the head in of any bloke that does look at her. Gods, it's annoying.

And she's still avoiding me! A good week it's been since our patrol together! Bloody woman's supposed to have a sense of justice, right? So when do I get my fair trial?

Blaise elbowed him, directing his attention to the front of the class where Snape, looking even more ill-tempered than usual, which is a pretty impressive effort when you think about it, instructed the class to copy the text from pages 1350 to 1370 of their Potions text book, in complete and utter silence, if you please.

Draco yawned. Snape either had a headache, or a hangover, and wanted to waste the class's time for the next hour or so while he slumped at his desk and waited for whatever potion he'd taken to come into effect. He stole a glance at Granger. She, too, looked pissed at the time-wasting activity. She probably knew the damn book off by heart, anyway. Still, what else could she do but comply with the grumpy old bastard's wishes?

Sitting with the Weasel, it would be an exercise in aggravation for her, since he'd obviously forgotten his textbook (or probably never had one in the first place) and she'd have to share her book with him and write at his pace, which even snails would turn their noses up at.

Poor thing.

No, wait!

She'd have some free time while she waited for the Neanderthal to wrap his paw around his quill and complete some basic scratchings. He had an idea. It would keep her busy. She likes busy, right?

Draco pulled a small piece of parchment out and took up his quill.

Blaise noted the activity and rolled his eyes.

Draco wrote a short line, folded the note into an elaborate bird and sent the missive on its way while Snape, looking practically cross-eyed with fatigue, barely glanced up.

The bird landed prettily on Hermione's table. She approached it with extreme suspicion, then gingerly opened it.

 _Every man's got his patience, and here's where mine ends.* - D.M._

She quickly looked at him. And, oh, how many emotions could that girl cram into not even one second's-worth of glance? Confusion, derision, annoyance, more derision, a little rage, a little fear, a little… desire?

Did he read that last one right?

Anyway, her reply came flapping over soon enough.

 _What the hell are you on about, Malfoy? - H.G._

Playing coy, eh? he thought. He twirled his quill.

 _You have heard stories about me. It's only right that I should be able to defend myself against them. Especially as they appear to cast me in a less-than-shining light. I offered this opportunity to you. And you haven't availed me of it. Rather poor manners, Granger. – D.M._

Off it soared, right underneath the Weasel's oblivious nose. Her perfect posture slumped a bit when she opened it.

 _Why are you doing this to me? Go flirt with someone who actually wants you. – H.G._

Ouch. Draco metaphorically smoothed his ruffled feathers.

 _Granger, Granger, Granger. I offer the hand of friendship, and you stomp all over it. what do you have to lose by accepting it? – D.M._

Her short, sharp response:

 _I don't trust you. That's why. – H.G._

 _You don't know me. That's why. – D.M._

 _I don't want to know you. – H.G._

 _Are you harbouring a resentment towards me? Or my Pureblood status? I sincerely hope not, Granger. I would have thought you far, far, above such things. – D.M._

Upon receipt of his latest note, a strangulated hiss escaped from her mouth. She gripped her quill so hard Draco expected it to explode and leak ink all over her fingers.

 _You know damn well I don't give a shit about stuff like that! – H.G._

 _Good. Meet me so we can talk. – D.M._

Draco never found out what Hermione's response was, because just as she sent the bird on its merry way, a pale bony hand snatched it out of the air, thus cutting its journey short.

The bony hand belonged to Professor Snape, whose mood almost brightened at the thought of catching that everlasting know-it-all Miss bloody Granger in the act of breaking the rules.

He bestowed upon her a glare of such ferocity that Weasley, still furiously copying text and completely oblivious to what was going on, shivered and pulled his robes closer around him. A man could freeze his bollocks off in this part of the castle, he thought to himself.

Hermione swallowed nervously and decided that in this situation, discretion would be the better part of valour.

Snape opened the missive with a flourish and read the contents. His eyebrows floated to the ceiling, then he turned his basilisk stare upon Draco, who was trying his best to look innocent.

He didn't have a lot of experience with this expression.

Snape's eyebrows came back down to earth, swivelled back to Hermione and knitted together in a ferocious frown. 'Even I was once a teenager,' he began, much to the dubious shrugs of the class, who believed that Professor Snape emerged, fully formed and breathing fire, from a dragon egg, 'but I managed to amass enough common sense to understand that Potions class is not the time nor the place for exchanging love letters with the object of your current lustful fancy!'

Draco smirked (he couldn't help it) while Hermione turned bright red and slid down in her seat.

'Miss Granger,' Snape continued, 'I am surprised at you.'

'I'm sorry, Professor Snape,' Hermione began miserably.

'Surely someone of your infamous intellect would know that the activity you instructed Mr Malfoy to perform upon himself is physically impossible. Unless you helped him.'

The class erupted in snickers while Hermione slid so far down her seat her nose met the table.

Now Draco was _dying_ to know what she wrote.

Snape crumpled up the paper and _incendioed_ it with a disdainful flick of his wand. Turning, with a flourish of his robes, back to his desk, he snapped 'Detention tonight, the pair of you. Dress warm.'

Hermione gulped.

Draco grinned.

* * *

Hermione set Gryffindor's Common Room settee practically on fire with the incendiary insults she hurled in Draco's direction (safely located all the way down in the dungeons). Ginny made note of some of Hermione's more colourful invectives for future use on her brothers, but otherwise just nodded and uh-huh'ed in the right places, thinking about something else.

Eventually, Hermione's imagination ran out of swear words, and she peered at Ginny. 'You're rather quiet,' she noted. 'What's up?'

What's up, indeed? Ginny sighed unhappily. Blaise's libido? I wouldn't know. Surely I must be only virgin left in the Sixth and Seventh Years! Well. Aside from Neville, probably. And Hermione, definitely.

'Hermione,' she asked plaintively, 'how do you get a bloke to sleep with you?'

Hermione's mouth fell open. 'I don't think I should be the one to ask.'

Yeah. 'Can you recommend someone, then?'

Not a little affronted, Hermione asked 'I assume we're talking about Blaise?'

Ginny lurched forward on the settee and grabbed Hermione's hands. 'He treats me like a fragile doll! He's all courtesy, and chaste kisses, and staring at me adoringly from afar, when all I want from him is raw, hard, greedy kisses and ripped blouse and wet knickers and - argh!' Ginny flung herself into the back of the settee. 'I want to have sex, damn it!'

'Oi!' Ron's outraged voice thundered across the Common Room from the entrance to the Boys' Dormitory. 'You will have sex over my, George's, Fred's, Percy's, Bill's, Charlie's and Dad's dead bodies, and not a moment before!'

'Oh, bugger off and shag Lavender somewhere indiscreet like you usually do, you loathsome hypocrite!' Ginny shouted.

Ron hmphed and grabbed his cloak, heading for the portrait hole. 'It's different for boys,' he said superciliously.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'Why?' she asked coldly.

Ron realised, too late, that he'd blundered into a hole. 'Well, obviously, boys can't get pregnant,' he stammered.

'You do realise that girls don't get pregnant all by themselves, don't you?' Hermione asked sweetly.

Ron's face resembled a tomato wearing a ginger wig. 'I don't want people thinking that Ginny's a wh' - he clamped a hand over his mouth and dashed for the portrait hole.

'I'm not done with you yet, Weasley!' Hermione shrieked after him. Then she turned back to Ginny. 'Seriously, I don't know why you're so eager to have sex with Blaise, but if you want to speak to someone with more authority on this topic, maybe you should talk to Parkinson.'

Ginny sighed. 'I want to have sex with Blaise because he is an absolutely sinful, beautiful bloke. Even through his layers of cloak, jumper and shirt I can feel stuff that is hard and rippling. But as to your advice, yes, I will talk to Parkinson.' She gulped. 'Once I work up enough courage.'

Hermione patted her friend on the shoulder. Sex is definitely not worth all this trouble. She must be right. She knew everything, after all.

* * *

 ***Michael, George. 'I Want Your Sex.'** _ **Faith**_ **. Columbia Records/Epic Records, 1987.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Warning: non-Dramione lemon**

'This is your fault!'

'Real mature, Granger.'

'Well, you started it!'

Draco sighed and stopped walking. They appeared to be going in circles, anyway. It must be nearly eleven o'clock, and as far as he could see (and carry, since he somehow ended up with the sack) they hadn't managed to get even halfway through their detention assignment, to whit: fill the damn sack up with as many doxy eggs as they could unearth. Night-time was the best time to harvest such things, since the doxies themselves (nasty, nippy things) bugger off to other parts of the world to feed.

Anyway. Back to more important things.

'Granger,' he grumped by the light of his wand, 'the fact remains that we're here, all alone, in the Forbidden Forest, most probably lost, in pursuit of the offspring of a race of foul-tempered creatures. Who won't be terribly pleased to discover, upon returning from their bloodthirsty repast, that they've been relieved of a few million of their next generation. Not that I'm trying to up-play the potential danger we're in. Anyway, aren't you all for creature rights or some such? Shouldn't you be deploring their violated rights instead of stealing their babies?'

Hermione turned back to him (or in his general direction, since it was bloody dark) and sighed. 'Being on detention may be second nature to you, or to Slytherins in general, but I find this entire exercise to be hugely embarrassing. What if this gets on my final record?'

'Yes, what if? One night's grubbing in the dirt for doxy eggs is certainly going to forbid you entrance to all but the most scandalous of wizarding universities – Granger? Granger? What are those ridiculous noises that are coming out of your mouth?'

Hermione was clinging to a tree of dubious parentage, having an absolutely certifiable panic attack.

Draco rolled his eyes and felt his way over to her general direction.

'Hey, it's okay,' he soothed, slowly rotating soothing circles over her back. 'I was kidding about the impact that one measly detention will have on your permanent record. Every university worth their salt would be mental to decline you. They'll be fighting over you, I bet. I mean, look at you! The Brightest Witch of Our Age, right? They'll hardly hand that accolade to Parkinson, will they?'

Hermione made a most undignified snort, but Draco hoped from the shaking of her shoulders that she was laughing, rather than crying.

He kept rubbing her back until her snorts and other noises ceased, and she even slumped a smidgen in Draco's direction.

He took the opportunity to tip-toe into no-man's land. Gathering up her wayward hair, he traced the outline of her ear with his finger. 'Why don't you want to be friends with me?' he whispered.

She stiffened at his touch, but he noted that she didn't shy away. 'I don't think it's just friendship that you want.'

'Why do you say that?' he breathed, ghosting a finger over her cheek. 'Your cheekbones are works of art, by the way.'

'Because you say shit like that!'

'I can look at the _Mona Lisa_ and appreciate the beauty represented in every stroke of da Vinci's brush,' Draco countered. 'Doesn't mean I want to have sex with her.'

Hermione stilled. 'You know the _Mona Lisa_?' she asked.

Yep, the ugly old cow. Why Muggles go doolally over her is anyone's guess.

'I know a lot of things, my dear,' he smiled. His lips were so close that she felt them move through her hair. 'If you take the time to get to know me, I bet you might even be pleasantly surprised.'

The night was silent, aside from assorted rumbling and screeching sounds from the forest's local population.

'How many girls have you slept with?' she whispered.

A direct assault, eh? Draco sighed.

'Look, if you don't want to tell' –

'No, no, I'll tell you,' Draco pacified. 'I, just, er, need to think about it for a minute. And don't roll your eyes!'

'How did you know I rolled my eyes?'

'Maybe I know something about you already.'

Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. Or maybe it was a smile.

Anyway, back to counting his conquests. Let's see, he was seventeen now, and he'd been sexually active since he was fourteen, courtesy of a surprising deflowering by one of his mother's close friends. So that would make it… um…. carry the one…

'Cho Chang?'

'Where?' Draco lifted his _lumosed_ wand and looked around.

'Not here, you idiot!' Hermione snapped. 'Did you sleep with Cho Chang?'

'Oh! Yes.'

'Penelope Clearwater?'

'Surprisingly, yes.'

'Fleur Delacour?'

Godric's balls, yes! Oh, to be between her thighs again... 'Um, yes.'

'Susan Bones?'

'Yup.'

'Katie Bell?'

'No. No, wait! Yes.'

'Tracey Davis?'

'Quite a few times, actually. Look, Granger, I think you've made your point' –

'Parkinson?' she asked with a distinct edge to her voice.

'No.'

She laughed derisively. 'Pull the other one, Malfoy.'

He crossed his arms. Not that she could see. 'I'm telling the truth!'

'Why not?'

Draco introduced some edge into his voice. 'Maybe I haven't had time, what with all the other girls I've been shagging.'

Hermione was silent. At least she'd stopped her list.

'What about you, Granger? Quid pro quo.'

'I haven't slept with any girls.'

Draco laughed. 'A pity,' he teased. 'What about boys?'

'None.' Said so matter-of-factly.

'Not even the Weasel?' Draco asked, surprised.

'His name is Weasley, and no, we haven't. We're like brother and sister! It would be wrong.'

Draco silently agreed. Giving the Weasel the opportunity to breed would be a fatal blow to the survival of the wizarding race.

'What about you?' Hermione asked, with a touch of belligerence.

'Are you asking me if I've slept with other boys?' he asked mildly.

'I am.'

He could imagine Hermione's chin jutting out.

'How open-minded are you?'

She gasped. 'Have you really' –

Draco snickered. 'Want to hear about it?' he whispered.

'If you insist on telling me,' Hermione replied snootily, but he heard her breath hitch, all the same.

'you have to promise not to tell anyone.'

'I pinky promise,' she vowed.

'What in Godric's name is a pinky promise, Granger?'

She sighed. 'Give me your hand.'

He dropped the sack and extended his hand to her, only to quickly snatch it back. 'Are you going to hex my pinky finger off?' he asked suspiciously.

'Not tonight, Malfoy. Now give me your damn hand!'

She grasped his hand and linked his pinky finger together with hers.

Draco was almost overwhelmed. This is the first time they've touched each other without the armour of clothing providing a dampening barrier. Then she let go.

'That's it?' he asked, bewildered.

'Did you expect an elaborate speech to go with it? The exchange of diamond-encrusted pinky rings?'

'Keep your hair on, Granger. I am unfamiliar with many Muggle customs, and I was just curious.'

'Oh. Sorry.'

He wasn't sure he liked hearing Granger apologising to him.

'Anyway, would you like me to continue?' he asked.

'Yes please,' she replied, meekly enough.

Draco wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. Merlin, you could freeze the tits off a dragon out here! But he was glad it was practically pitch-black. He was pretty comfortable with who he was and what he got up to, but the thought of telling Granger made him… nervous?

He shoved that feeling away.

'Right. Last year, Nott stayed at Malfoy Manor over the holidays. One night, I found him with his hand around his cock, slowly wanking. Said he'd been doing it every night he'd been staying over, watching me. Wasn't the least bit embarrassed. Kept stroking himself even as he spoke. Said he knew I fancied girls; so did he. He just fancied boys, too. He knew I wouldn't fuck him, but he hoped I didn't mind if he fantasised about me doing it.'

He stopped, collecting his thoughts.

'What happened next?' Hermione whispered.

'I leaned over and kissed him. I was curious. Was kissing a bloke different from kissing a girl?'

'What did you decide?'

'Yeah, it's a bit different. Boys have stubble on their faces. But everyone kisses differently. Surely even you have been kissed?'

'Yes,' she snapped.

'Excellent. Anyway, Nott was surprised, but he got into it pretty quick. The kiss changed from something exploratory, almost clinical, to heated, very quickly. I felt his tongue push into my mouth like he couldn't get enough of the way I tasted. I did the same to him, and I got hard. I was quite surprised, to be honest, but fuck, I was turned on.'

'Then what?'

'He pulled me onto his bed. We snogged; our hands explored each other's bodies. Now _that_ was a different experience, Granger. Girls have soft breasts, and Nott had hard, warm skin. And hairy legs. If this experience has taught me anything, it's to value a girl's smooth legs. Can't get enough of them.'

'Duly noted,' Hermione said wryly.

'Good. Please pass the message on if you would be so kind. Anyway, he laid me on his bed and removed my briefs. Then he moved down my body, tasting it with his lips and tongue until he got to my erection. He looked at me while he wrapped his fingers around it. Then he sank his mouth down onto my cock. Dear gods; it felt fucking awesome, Granger. I scrabbled for my wand and cast a _muffliato_ over the room in case my father barged in. Would have had a heart attack if he'd seen us!

'Nott's mouth was wet, Granger, wet and hot. I won't make you shriek by revealing how big I am, but suffice to say I've never had any girl take more of me in their mouth before him, or since. My eyes rolled back in my head as my body bucked under his mouth.

'I was a selfish bastard, and I wanted more. My cock was wet from his mouth, and he wanked the base of me while he sucked hard on the remainder, his cheeks hollowing. His hand grew wet from his spit, making the sensation so much better.

'I could feel the orgasm build in my balls. I grabbed his hair and made him look up as I gritted out that I was going to come, so if he wanted to finish me with his hand then he'd better get my cock out of his mouth _now_. He just smiled, let go with his hand, and fed my cock in one, achingly long moment, right to the back of his throat. I heard him gag on my cock. Shit, I _felt_ him gag on it. Every single part of my cock was stimulated – and I exploded hard.

'He gripped my cock with his hand to stop me from falling out of his mouth. I emptied myself into his throat and he swallowed every drop I gave him. He was moaning as loud as I was. Even when I was empty, he swept his tongue along my sensitive head, sucking it. It drew my orgasm out... I've never had an orgasm last so long.'

Draco sighed. In the darkness, he focussed on his erection. Did he get hard from recalling the memory, or did he get hard from telling all to Granger?

He honestly didn't know.

'Oh, my God,' Hermione breathed.

'Yeah.' Draco leaned his head against the dubious tree and closed his eyes.

'Did you do anything else?'

'I tried to return the favour, but it appears I do not have the necessary skills for deep-throating. I straddled his body and kissed him while I wanked his cock. We both watched as he came over my body. We cleaned up, then fell asleep together.'

'Did either of you, um, penetrate each other?'

He smirked. Granger the prude. 'No.'

'Will you?'

'Why? Want to watch?' He sighed. 'I'm just teasing, Granger. No need to stomp off in a huff. In response to your question: I don't know. Nott wants to. I'm not sure myself.'

She was quiet.

'Sex can mean a lot of things, Granger,' he whispered. 'What does it mean to you?'

'It's a way of showing someone that you love them. It's being able to trust them completely, letting your guard down, not be afraid of getting hurt.'

'Is the sex I had with Nott different to your ideal?'

'Well, of course!' she started, but then she pulled herself up. 'Um... I'm not sure, actually.'

They both listened to the night.

Draco picked up the sack. It wasn't full, but it would have to do. He had an appointment with his hand that was becoming very, very urgent. 'Shall we bust out of this place?'

Hermione was prepared to let the detention remain unfinished. 'Good idea.'

Using a _lumos_ and a _homenum revelio_ spell, they hacked and slashed their way back to civilisation.

* * *

In bed, Hermione cast a _muffliato_ over her room _._ She'd discarded her knickers upon getting back, peeling the soaking material down her legs. She closed her eyes and recalled Malfoy's story. It did cross her mind that he might have made the whole damn thing up, but she had a feeling that it was true.

When she relived his description of his orgasm, she touched her clitoris - and came as she watched him come in her head.

Malfoy is mad, bad, and dangerous to know, she thought afterwards. That much is certain.

She smiled.

Draco Malfoy. The wizarding world's own Lord Byron.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Warning: non-Dramione lemon**

* * *

The following morning, instead of leaping out of bed like Draco usually did (and had done, ever since he was a little boy), he spent a few minutes in his otherwise empty bed, contemplating his bedroom ceiling.

Thinking about last night.

And the fact that it was the second bloody time he'd had to hobble uncomfortably back to his room because of Hermione.

He hoped the end of her night was as dissatisfying for her as it was for him.

Anyway.

The list of girls that she'd bombarded him with. She must have gotten that information from somewhere. Someone. Some of those girls don't even go to Hogwarts anymore.

I think it's time to enlist some help, he thought.

* * *

'Nott, my man! There you are.'

Draco found Theo in Slytherin's Common Room, slouched on a sofa with his feet up on a side table, nose-deep in a book. 'What do you want, Malfoy?' he mumbled.

Draco pasted a wounded expression on his face. 'Does a bloke need a reason to chat with his best mate?'

Theo put his book down and raised his eyebrows.

'Fine,' Draco sighed. 'I need an extra pair of hands for a delicate task. You're my only hope.'

'Oh, gods. What do you want me to do?'

'It's not a conversation for public consumption,' Draco hedged, glancing around the Common Room where it seemed that practically the entire House were slouching around doing homework or dry humping each other in dark corners.

Theo sighed, and got up. 'Your place or mine?'

* * *

 **Later**

Theo sat on Draco's bed, his forehead furrowed in thought. 'You want me to find out how Granger knows about the impressively lengthy list of birds you've shagged.'

Draco leaned against a tallboy. 'Yup.'

'And you want me to do that by getting close to her friends.'

'Two for two.'

'Intimately close, if necessary.'

'You know, there are some people who would call that a perk.'

'Why me, exactly?'

Draco had prepared, in advance, a big dollop of flattery. 'Because you're one of the most trustworthy Slytherins around. Gryffindors usually gallop off a mile away if a Slytherin approaches them, but you're an honest-to-goodness gentleman with a mysterious air. They look at you and think 'That Nott, he seems to be an all right, good-looking bloke. I wonder why he's in Slytherin? I must get to know him and find out.'

Theo crossed his arms and flung a sardonic look at Draco. 'An 'all right, good-looking bloke'?' he asked. 'That's the best you can do?'

Draco pushed himself off the tallboy. 'How about 'exceptionally hot and talented bloke?' he suggested.

Theo's dark eyes flared. 'Talented, you say?'

Draco nodded. 'The best I've known,' he said in a low voice.

Theo watched Draco slowly approach. 'Are you trying to seduce me into doing your dirty work?'

Draco shook his head. 'No,' he said honestly. And he wasn't. He was hard because those recollections of Theo fellating him so well had been spinning in his head for hours, and Draco wanted him. It was just that simple.

Theo and Draco locked eyes. Then Theo drew out his wand.

Draco didn't break eye contact, nor did he reach for his own wand, even though it was his instinct to do so.

Theo raised his wand. He murmured a locking spell on the door and a _muffliato_ charm on the room. His beautiful lips quirked.

Once again, Draco initiated their kiss. But this one was hot, hard and born of mutual need.

* * *

Theo wanted to suck Draco's cock first. He knelt on the floor between Draco's legs, while Draco leaned back on the bed and gave in to blissful sensation. His memories were no substitute for the real thing. He marvelled at how Theo knew exactly the right pressure to apply with his lips, tongue and hand. When he pulled Draco's cock into the back of his throat, Draco's thighs shook from the bliss. 'Fuck, you're good!' he bit out.

Theo's fathomless eyes looked up at him before he flicked his tongue around the head of Draco's cock before sending it to the back of his throat.

Hell!

Draco could feel his cock tingling, and the familiar tightening of his balls.

'I'm gonna come, Theo,' Draco whispered.

Theo hummed, overloading Draco's cock with exquisite vibrations. Arching his back, he came in Theo's mouth, watching his throat move as he swallowed his seed.

Then Draco collapsed back onto his bed, utterly wrung out. Theo joined him.

Draco turned his head and smiled at his friend. He leaned over, and they slowly, gently kissed.

'It's quite a powerful feeling, making you come,' Theo commented. 'For just a few seconds, you're completely in my control. The great man-slut Draco Malfoy, brought to his knees. At least for a little while.'

Draco ran a hand down Theo's hard body before wrapping it around his erection. 'I'm not sure what I am, Theo,' he said in a low voice. 'I don't know if I'm bisexual or straight. I don't know if I find blokes in general attractive, or if it's just you. Do you get what I'm saying?'

Theo nodded. 'Understood.' Then he raised a devilish eyebrow. 'You think I'm attractive, then?'

Draco smirked. 'I've paid you enough compliments today, Nott. You receive any more, and your head will explode.' Then he sobered. 'But yeah. I do.'

Draco sat up, then leaned over Theo as their lips met.

* * *

Much as Draco hated admitting defeat, he couldn't exceed Nott's amazing capacity for supressing his instinct to gag. Theo's cock was a marvel, a type that looked insignificant when it was flaccid, but grew under Draco's fascinated eyes to a length and girth that almost matched his. So, he couldn't deep-throat his friend. No matter. There were other things he could do.

Draco tongued and sucked as much of Theo's cock as he could take, while wrapping his hand around the base and stimulating him in time with his mouth. Once he had Theo flat on his back with his head thrown back, moaning in need, Draco applied his tongue to Theo's smooth balls, one at a time, before drawing each one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.

'Merlin!' Theo cried out in a strangulated voice. 'Dear gods, don't stop…'

Draco did as Theo wanted, letting a testicle fall out of his mouth with a 'plop' before taking the other one in, stroking his friend's cock with a saliva-slick hand.

He stimulated Theo's perineum with his fingertips, working his way, excruciatingly slowly, to his anus, brushing his fingertips over it and driving Theo absolutely fucking nuts. He'd spread his legs on instinct, giving Draco more room to explore. Sweat had broken out on his face and torso, and Draco slowed his pace, not wanting to Theo to come too soon.

He smiled at the number of the swearwords Theo flung at him while clawing for breath.

'You kiss you mother with that mouth, Nott?' Draco smirked.

'Fuck you,' Theo groaned. 'When I come back down to earth again, I'm gonna kill you for torturing me.'

'Tsk, tsk,' Draco tutted.

Draco quietly _accioed_ some lubricant. Spreading some onto his middle finger, he wanked Theo's cock while he slowly pushed his finger, millimetre by millimetre, into Theo's arse.

In an instant, Theo morphed from someone on the edge to one that was in full flight. He clutched fistfuls of Draco's duvet in his fists and howled in euphoria, sounds spilling from his lips but forming no words.

'Come for me, Theo,' Draco hissed, stroking his finger in and out. He watched in fascination as Theo's testicles contracted towards his body and his chest shuddered. Draco sealed his mouth over Theo's cock, closing his eyes when Theo let out a keening wail. Draco stroked Theo as he let go, spilling into Draco's mouth once, twice, three times. He swallowed Theo's come, his cheeks hollowing over the head of Theo's cock.

Eventually, Theo's breathing returned to normal. He flung an arm over his eyes.

Draco cast a _scourgifying_ charm over them both, then lay down, tiredly, next to his friend.

Theo turned his away.

Huh?

Draco leaned on an elbow and peered at him. Theo's arm was still across his face so Draco lifted it away. Theo resisted, then sighed and let him.

Tears clung to the edge of Theo's eyelashes.

'What's the matter?' Draco asked quietly. 'Did I hurt' –

'No.'

'Well, then' –

'Not now, okay, Malfoy?' Theo said tiredly. Then he sat up and began to look for his clothes.

Malfoy. Huh.

He shrugged and retrieved his own clothes. He had enough trouble figuring women out. If Nott wasn't going to communicate, then fuck him.

Or not, as the case may be.

They dressed in strained silence, then Theo retrieved his wand. At the door, he said: 'Your assignment.'

'What about it?' Draco asked, slowly tying his shoes and avoiding Theo's eyes.

'I'm not seducing the Weasel. You can fuck right off if that's your plan.'

Draco snapped his head up, but Theo was wearing his sardonic smile.

The two boys looked at each other.

Draco half-smirked. 'If it gets to that point, we'll try Plan B.'

Theo nodded. 'See you.'

'Yeah. See you. And thanks. For your help.'

The door opened and closed, and Theo was gone.

Draco rested his head in his hands and sighed.

* * *

Dinner time in the Great Hall. Theo poured himself some pumpkin juice while he took a quiet look around.

From what he knew, the Weaselette was Granger's closest friend. She was sitting at the Slytherin table right now, next to Blaise, pushing her food around her plate and looking nervously at Parkinson while Zabini prattled on, unawares. Theo wasn't going to risk Zabini's wrath if he paid attention to her. Moving on.

Ron the Weasel was also very close to Granger. He was also one of the most annoying prats Theo had ever met. Eighty percent of his conversation was about Quidditch, and the remainder was about birds. The filthier the better, so he reckoned. The thought of trying to engage him in subtle conversation about Granger made Theo feel quite soporific.

A pity that Granger didn't have any dorm buddies anymore, now that she'd moved to the Heads' Dorm. Still, she'd shacked up with Patil and Brown for a number of years. They must know something. As a bonus, little Miss Brown was known far and wide for shagging Weasley, so odds were good that she might know something that he knows.

Decision made, Theo applied himself to his delicious roast meal. He'll start with Brown.

Maybe she'll keep his mind off Draco.

* * *

'Um… Hermione?'

In the Infirmary, Hermione paused in her bed-making (so handy, using a wand) and turned around curiously to her co-apprentice, Jason. 'Yes?'

Jason's face was pale, and his jaw was tightly clenched. He'd been putting if off for weeks now. Weeks and weeks. He had to do it now, or risk losing her forever.

Yes! Jason thought wildly. Forever!

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. 'Hermione,' he started, I would be hon' –

Something lodged his throat. He swallowed. She raised a polite eyebrow.

He tried again, his face morphing from white to red. 'Hermione, would you, er, that is to say, could you – er, wait! 'Would you' is better. Um, would you do' –

'Hold that thought,' Hermione interrupted. 'We have visitors.'

In chagrin, Jason turned around and could have quite happily strangled the two bloody little First Years, in tears because they'd been snooping around Professor Sprout's greenhouses and got nibbled by something unidentifiable. Except for the fact that it had teeth.

Hermione sat the wailing twosome down and soothed them, while Jason stomped off to the office to pull out the texts on medical maladies so he could play 'Guess the Trauma.' Which he actually enjoyed doing, on any other day. But not on the very day he'd been trying to ask Hermione to go to the Yule Ball with him! Hufflepuff's hosiery, if he left it any longer, Draco 'Merlin's Gift to Womankind' Malfoy will slither in (ha) and take her.

The object of his adoration popped her head around the office door. 'How are you getting on, Sherlock?' she asked with a smile. Apparently 'Sherlock' was a Muggle literary figure, a detective of great renown. Jason was (quietly) thrilled to have been given a nickname by the girl he'd worshipped, adored, and (in latter years) lusted after since they were in First Year.

Startled, Jason looked up. 'Willyougototheballwithme?' he yelped.

Hermione frowned. 'Sorry, I didn't catch that.'

Jason took a deep breath. 'Hermione, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?' he asked with as much dignity as he could muster.

'Oh.' Hermione looked surprised. 'I wasn't really thinking of going' –

'Oh well, never mind,' Jason murmured, hiding his despondency.

'But on the other hand, why not? I'd love to go with you, Jason,' she smiled.

Choruses of angelic music exploded inside Jason's head. Omigod. She said yes. She said yes.

SHE SAID YES!

He smiled at her with goo-goo eyes until Hermione reminded him of the patients in the Infirmary.

'Oh, right. Yes. A Chinese Chomping Cabbage mistook them for an entrée.' He proffered the text to Hermione so she could get the necessary materials together to patch their wounds and prevent infection.

'Brilliant as always, Jason, thank you.'

Blushing a little, she smiled once more and headed back to the ward.

Jason hummed a little tune as he replaced the text books. This is the best day of my life! he thought. So far.


	8. Chapter 8

At breakfast the following morning, the Slytherin table occupants (not generally known as morning people) were jolted into wakefulness by a most undignified clamouring and cheering. It started at the Great Hall door, and grew irritatingly louder until it culminated in a climax at the Gryffindor table, surprise, surprise.

Draco, Blaise and Theo looked up from their coffees to see what mountain the Gryffindorks had made from which molehill this morning.

Carried in on the shoulders of Weasley, Longbottom, Finnegan and Thomas was the rather bashful Harry Potter, freshly arrived back from his six-month stay with the imposing Durmstrang Institute - Dark Arts educators and lethally serious about Quidditch. The braying boys carried Harry to the Gryffindor table, whereupon he was swamped by waves of screaming girls, overjoyed to have their Quidditch hero return at long, long last (six months is a long time for teenagers, even witches).

At the Head Table, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall smiled indulgently while Professor Snape concentrated hard on resisting the urge to _silencio_ the whole bloody lot of them by imagining all the torturous rules and regulations he would put in place if he became Headmaster of this zoo. A rare, dreamy smile settled on his craggy features while he stared off into space.

Blaise returned to his muesli. 'Potter's back, then.'

'So it would seem,' grunted Theo, finishing the last of his scrambled eggs. And, because he couldn't resist: 'He's back from that six-month Quidditch Masterclass that Durmstrang puts on, right? Didn't you put your name down for that, Malfoy?'

Draco bared his teeth at Theo. It was true. He'd put his name into the ring to be considered for selection to the course, which Durmstrang put on every five years. He was incensed when he lost out to Saint fucking Potter. But upon reflection, would he have rather shivered his gonads off in Northern Europe at a school were girls were so rare that you ended up seriously contemplating a deep and meaningful relationship with your broom, or would he have rather strutted around the comparatively warmer halls of Hogwarts, where girls were plentiful and not made of wood?

'I got over it,' he murmured, silver eyes glinting at his sometime lover.

Harry had managed to beat off his fans long enough to envelop a beaming Hermione in a giant hug that took her off her feet. The affection the two Gryffindors had for each other was clear. A couple of days ago, Draco would have ground his teeth with envy, but now he knew something about Hermione that only Hermione knew before. Potter was no more competition than the Weasel for her affections.

Harry noticed Malfoy staring at him and Hermione. He raised an arm to his closest Quidditch foe in neutral greeting, and was surprised when Malfoy smiled and acknowledged him in a way that didn't involve one or two extended fingers.

Things appear to have changed around here, Harry thought.

* * *

Lavender was running late, as always. This time, she was at serious risk of getting detention for being tardy to Muggle Studies, thanks to Ron. He always picks the most inconvenient times for a shag, she grumbled. Not to mention the most inconvenient places! This time she'd had to sprint to school all the way from the Quidditch pitch changing rooms! Panty-less, despite her frantic efforts to find them.

Gasping for breath, she hurtled around a corridor corner at top speed – only to run smack into what appeared to be a wall.

'Oof!' she exclaimed as the wind was knocked out of her. She sailed back, landing on her delightfully perky bottom, skidding a few feet back on the flagstones. Her books rained down over her shapely legs, exposed well past mid-thigh by her fall. She looked up, and cringed when an overly-large tome hurtled towards her.

'Watch out!' a male voice rang out, and to Lavender's utter surprise, an arm shot out from the wall and caught the book before it could land on her person and cause a nasty book-shaped bruise somewhere.

Lavender leaned back on her arms and stared up at her saviour, agog. He was tall, dark and handsome, with a worried look on his aristocratic face.

He was also a Slytherin.

* * *

'I'm so sorry, that was my fault,' her Slytherin-esque rescuer admitted, getting down on one knee before Lavender, whose heartrate accelerated to dangerous levels at this quasi chivalrous-cum-sexy move. He held out a hand. 'Are you hurt? Should I take you to the Infirmary?'

Spellbound, Lavender took his hand, which was warm and smooth, unlike Ron's (usually damp and always calloused from Quidditch) and let him pull her up with ease. In a heartbeat, he'd gathered up her books and presented them to her.

'Um, I'm fine, I think,' she replied uncertainly. Her face was burning beneath her long curls, hoping she hadn't given the boy an all-access view to her panty-less you-know-what when she landed on her arse. 'You're Theodore Nott, right?'

He smiled. 'Just Theo,' he said. 'And you're Lavender Brown?'

She blushed. 'That's right. Thanks for rescuing me from that big book. It looked like it was capable of breaking a leg.'

'Yes, it's pretty hefty,' Theo said, looking at it. 'Why don't you shrink your books? Much safer.'

Lavender scuffed the corridor's flagstones with her shoe. 'I'm not much good at Charms,' she mumbled.

'Well, that happens to be one of my stronger subjects,' he admitted cheerfully. 'I can teach you if you like. It's the least I can do for getting in your way.'

Lavender looked up hopefully. 'Would you? That would be lovely.'

Theo smiled slowly at her. 'Good,' he replied in a low voice that had her you-know-what traitorously tingling.

'Um, well, I'd better face the music at Muggle Studies,' Lavender said glumly, not at all wanting to leave.

Theo grimaced in sympathy. 'Sorry for making you late, too.'

'Not at all. I was already late before we, er, met.' She looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. 'See you later?'

'Definitely.' Theo smiled and watched her scoot down the corridor before resuming his original path to the Library.

Plan A: so far, so good.

He recalled the tantalising glimpse of the girl's well-manicured pussy when she fell backwards.

The naughty little minx...

Upon second thought, he'd better divert to the Boys' Toilets. Nothing like a neglected boner to distract you from your study.

* * *

Draco was up for another round of getting knocked back by Hermione. If nothing else, this exercise was good for developing a thick skin, he mused. Not that his was paper-thin to begin with.

He glanced at the flyer that he'd ripped off a bulletin board. It advertised a meeting in the Great Hall that started a good five minutes ago. Which, as he stood outside the Great Hall's doors, made him right on time. Malfoys must always make an entrance. Even to this gods-forsaken meeting.

'Welcome to the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!' Hermione sang out, before she registered who was strutting down the Great Hall like he owned the place. 'Are you lost, Malfoy?' she snapped.

The other society members (a meagre dozen of the most listless, insipid excuses for humanity Draco had ever seen) collectively drew in a breath and, for some reason, crossed their legs under their chairs.

'Indeed I am not, Granger,' Draco announced, pasting an arrogant smile on his face. 'After years of putting up with your constant – er, I mean listening, from afar, to your impassioned speeches about elf welfare, I have decided to see for myself if I can assist you in any way.'

The look Hermione gave him could have blistered paint.

'May I sit down?' Draco asked politely (while looking absolutely sinful).

They eyeballed each other, their faces so close they could have kissed.

'Fine,' Hermione snapped, and stepped aside.

'But' – she growled, just as Draco was about to park his delectable bottom on a chair – 'I will be watching you. Very closely.'

Draco sat down and gracefully flung one leg over the other. 'Please do,' he smirked.

He looked around the collection of sad sacks with a marginally curled lip while Hermione grimly assembled her notes. One wraith with curly hair and glasses looked vaguely familiar.

'Ah!' Draco exclaimed cheerfully, pleased that he'd been able to remember such a nonentity. 'You're the Ravenclaw wannabe Healer who refuses to tend to female patients, right?'

'What?' Hermione looked at Jason in consternation.

He sputtered with great indignity. 'That's not true, Hermione, I swear!' he said passionately.

'Malfoy, stop shit-stirring,' Hermione sighed, and called the meeting, now very late, to order.

Draco glowered at Jason, who, despite having a healthy fear of the Slytherin prince, couldn't help the smug grin that flowered upon his face.

You'll keep, Draco thought darkly.

* * *

Hermione lay on the Head's sofa with a cold compress on her forehead, while Harry sat in a nearby comfy chair, nursing a spiced pumpkin juice.

'He made the other society members cry?' Harry said.

'Not all of them,' Hermione sighed. 'Just the First through to Fourth Years. He shot down all of their ideas for fund-raising, tearing apart their plans like tissue paper.'

'Was he just being a bully?'

'Probably. But his counter-arguments made sense, damn him.'

'I hope you made him come up with a counter-proposal.'

'Yes. In a way.' Hermione winced.

Harry refreshed her compress and handed it back to her, which she received with a grateful smile.

'He suggested linking a fund-raising activity with the Yule Ball, and not advertising that the proceeds will go to S.P.E.W. People would rather not care who they donate to rather than knowingly donate to us, he said.'

Harry was silent.

'Harry? You still there?'

'Yep, of course. Well, what's the harm in trying it?'

Hermione's scowl almost set her cold compress aflame. _'Et tu,_ Potter?' she spat.

Harry smiled. He'd missed Hermione. In all her glorious forms.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco had mixed feelings after his S.P.E.W. meeting. One the one hand, he enjoyed punching holes in everyone's crappy ideas. He even didn't have to try too hard. On the other hand, he didn't like seeing Hermione's face scrunch up in pain, knowing that he was probably the cause of it.

Well. Definitely the cause of it.

He certainly wasn't impressed that he got roped into organising the Yule Ball fundraiser. But even that had a silver lining. He would have to work with Hermione to get it approved and out the door.

Swings and roundabouts.

His personal project was on hiatus for the time being. He couldn't progress with his seduction until he knew how Hermione knew what she knew.

He thought it was about time for an update from the field.

* * *

After an exhaustive hunt, he located Theo coming out of the Heads' Dorm.

'What were you doing in there?' Draco asked, surprised.

'Designing posters for the Yule Ball,' was Theo's succinct reply.

'Gods, the Ball's like a Giant Squid with endless tentacles,' Draco groaned.

Theo looked marginally sympathetic. 'They got you too, eh?'

'Yeah.'

They strolled in not-quite-uncomfortable silence until they came to a quiet alcove along the corridor. 'So,' Draco started, 'how's it going with Plan A?'

Theo shrugged easily. 'It's okay.'

Not for the first time, Draco bemoaned Theo's tendency towards conversational reticence. 'And how fast would it be going, do you reckon?'

Theo looked at Draco, amused. 'Am I on a time limit?'

Draco sighed. 'No, of course not,' he said. 'But it would be nice to have a crack at Granger before we graduate.'

Theo looked out of the lead-light windows over the school's beautiful grounds. Call him juvenile, but he wanted Draco to hurt. Even after only being lovers twice, Theo saw how easy it could be for someone to fall in love with the hedonistic blonde bastard, like he –

Not. Going. There.

What would hurt Draco the most? he wondered. Failing to seduce Hermione? Or falling in love with her?

Theo turned back to Draco. 'Can you hold out for another week, maybe two?'

Preferably not, was Draco's honest thought, but he wasn't in a position to argue. He smiled and clapped his friend on the arm. 'Thanks, mate. You're the best.'

He set off down the corridor, whistling a jaunty tune.

* * *

Harry caught Hermione in a rare moment of solitude, sitting at her favourite table in the Library and staring, unseeing, out of the window.

'Hey.' Harry slid into the chair opposite her. 'You okay?'

Hermione glanced wearily at him. 'Tired. Sore.' Then she shrugged. 'Look, I know you have some catch-up work to do but I really need the time to do my own stuff today.'

Harry blinked. 'Sure, no problem. That's not why I'm here, anyway.'

'Oh?' Hermione rubbed her right shoulder and rolled her neck.

Harry watched her with concern, but without comment. 'Um, I was hoping you could tell me… well, I hear Ginny's going out with Zabini.'

Hermione boggled at Harry. Talk about a surprising topic. 'Um, yes. For a few weeks.'

Harry nodded to himself. 'Is it serious?'

Hermione foundered. She also felt, oddly, that she was being disloyal to Blaise, who, despite being a Slytherin, had been nothing but an outstanding Head Boy and a courteous roommate.

'I don't know,' she said slowly. 'Harry, you're putting me in an awkward position' –

'Yeah, I know,' Harry said sadly. 'I liked Ginny before I left. A lot. But I was going to be away for six months and it didn't seem fair to kiss her one minute and bugger off the next. All the while I was gone I'd hoped she'd be interested in me when I came back. I wrote letters, but' –

'Oh, Harry,' Hermione said softly.

Her looked at her helplessly.

Her resolve crumbed. He was one of her best friends, after all. 'The best thing you can do is talk to her, be honest with her. Who knows?'

Harry smiled wanly. 'Yeah. Who knows?'

He got off his chair and ghosted out of the library.

Hermione let her head thump onto the table. Then she fell asleep.

* * *

Lavender met Theo inside McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom one night after dinner, lugging her weighty Muggle Studies textbook.

She was a little late – she'd spent more time than usual on her hair and tested out almost her entire collection of lip gloss out before settling on a mild rose tint – but with every step she took, her heart crept higher and higher into her throat as she became more and more certain that he'd stood her up, and she'd be a laughingstock in the Slytherin dungeons.

But to her relief, when the large door creaked open, Theo Nott was present and correct, leaning casually against a desk, flicking through a book. The smile he gave her when she poked her head around the door made her panties (which she made a point of wearing) go damp.

'Hi, Lavender!' Theo waved her in, looking deliciously casual with his shirtsleeves rolled up to just below his elbows and his tie loosened.

Lavender floated in, grinning like a loon. 'Hi, Theo.'

'I see you bought your book,' Theo said. 'Great stuff. Shall we get on with it?' he winked.

'Yes please,' breathed Lavender, trying to not sound too eager.

Theo established Lavender's problem. Luckily, _'rebucio!'_ didn't result in anything happening to her text book, like growing a few arms and legs and galloping out the door.

Lavender looked at Theo helplessly. 'You see?' she said dolefully.

Theo smiled. 'Easily fixed, don't worry. The correct word for the shrinking spell is _reducio,_ rather than _rebucio._ Swap your 'b' for a 'd' and see how you go.'

'Oh, gods.' Lavender's cheeks burned. 'I always get those letters mixed up. There must be First Years that can run rings around me already.'

'Hey.' Theo leaned over and gently tugged her chin up, so she was looking directly into his dark eyes. 'You have nothing to be ashamed about. Now you know what to look for, you can take extra care checking the spell's text before you cast it. If it doesn't work one way, try the other way.'

Lavender tried to smile. Her long lashes brushed her hot cheeks.

Theo stepped a little closer, and his hand wandered from her chin to tuck a curl around her ear. 'I'll tell you a secret,' he whispered.

He was so close Lavender could smell his cologne. He actually wore cologne. Ron wore soap and water. Sometimes he forgot the soap. 'What is it?' she whispered back.

'I'm colour-blind.'

'Huh?' Her eyes shot open in confusion.

He grinned, and stepped back (to Lavender's disappointment). 'I can't see the colours red or green. They look grey to me.'

Lavender was nonplussed. For all her faults, and she knew she had many, she could at least see all the colours in a rainbow. She took it for granted, in fact.

She proffered her Gryffindor tie. 'So, what does this look like?'

Theo glanced at it and grinned. 'Grey and gold.'

Bolder, Lavender stepped forward and touched his Slytherin tie. 'And this?'

'Dark grey and light grey.' He shrugged. 'Shades of grey.'

'That's so sad,' Lavender whispered.

Theo laughed easily. 'Don't be sad on my account. I've never been able to see red and green clearly, so I've never known what I'm missing. It doesn't cause many problems, except I have to concentrate in Potions class because I can't just rely on the colour of a potion to let me know if I'm correct or not. Anyway,' he added, 'we've gone totally off-topic, Miss Brown. Try the charm again.'

Lavender gave Theo a dubious look, but she flicked her wand at her textbook and said _'reducio!'_

Instantly, her book shrunk to the size of a matchbook.

'Omigod!' Lavender squealed and jumped up and down with excitement. 'I did it!'

Theo cheered. 'Try it again!'

Eyes shining, Lavender skipped around the classroom, shrinking anything and everything that wasn't already microscopic, growing in confidence with every success.

'I don't believe it!' she cried, hopping onto the dais where Theo was watching her, amused. 'Thank you so much!' She threw her arms around Theo and hugged him. His body stiffened, which made Lavender feel like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her.

'I'm sorry,' she said miserably. 'Gryffindors are kind of touchy-feely.'

She tried to pull away, but Theo's arms were now linked around her waist, and he held her in place. 'I'm the one who's sorry,' he said in a low voice. 'I was just surprised, that's all. It feels nice.'

Tell me about it, Lavender thought unnecessarily. His body felt hard and lean, and she was already hopelessly in love with the smell of his cologne on his skin.

'It feels really nice,' Theo whispered.

Lavender looked up. His eyes were glittering. Oh, gods, he's gorgeous.

He cleared his throat. 'I know you're with Weasley,' he began.

'Please don't say his name,' Lavender begged. 'Not now.'

Theo swallowed, and glanced unseeingly out of one of the classroom's magnificent windows. His hands were absent-mindedly running up and down her back, and Lavender felt like the luckiest pussycat in the world.

He eventually looked down at her. 'Lavender,' he started.

'What is it?' She was dying to know.

'Forgive me,' he breathed, then he captured her mouth with his.

* * *

Nothing.

No words entered Lavender's head.

She had no words to describe Theo's kiss because she'd never been kissed so well before.

And so dryly!

Ron's kissing technique was more enthusiasm than precision. As much as she tried to get him to understand that she preferred not to have her mouth, chin and cheeks slobbered all over – if she did, she'd happily French kiss a Saint Bernard. But her feedback tended to stick in Ron's short-term memory only.

But Theo's kiss… it was just like the kisses described in those naughty Muggle romances Hermione brought in for her, Parvati and Ginny to giggle over.

 _I exhale shakily as he leans down and kisses me, softly and sweetly, over and over again. He pulls back after a moment, still holding me in place, but I'm not ready for the moment to end. Instinctively, my hand moves to his head, fingers running through his hair, as I force him right back to me. He chuckles, not fighting it, and kisses me deeper. Soft and sweet turns firm and frenzied, the once feather-light kisses now brutalizing my lips. I'm not sure which way I prefer it. One way makes my heart flutter; the other sets my chest aflame…*_

Ah, thought Lavender. Not quite. But -

Theo's kiss was clever and confident. He didn't dive down the back of her throat with his tongue the second their lips met; he seemed to wait for silent permission, tasting her lips; learning them. When he gently licked the underside of her top lip, she opened to him. He made a low sound and brought his hands up to her head, running through her curls and bringing her body even closer to his. It was, quite simply, the most erotic kiss Lavender had ever had.

Eventually, they slowed, leaving each other's mouths with ever-decreasing kisses.

They gazed at each other, their eyes equally wide. Standing at the edge of the cliff.

What will happen now? Lavender thought, trembling. Why am I doing this?

Theo understood. He kissed her gently on the forehead, and drew her into a comforting hug.

Eventually, they let go. Lavender stared at her shoes. She couldn't bear to watch Theo tell her that he'd made an awful mistake.

'Well, now you know how I feel,' Theo said in a low voice. 'I would love to get to know you more, but it's not right for me to step on Weasley's toes.'

Guilt bloomed all over Lavender's skin.

Theo gently tugged her chin up again and ran a thumb gently over her kiss-swollen lips. 'Whatever you decide to do, I'll abide by. Okay?'

'Okay,' Lavender mumbled.

Theo nodded. 'Let me know,' he said, and backed away. With one last look at her, he turned and walked out of the classroom door.

Leaving Lavender to wonder how so much can change in such a short space of time.

* * *

Theo ran his hands through his hair as he headed to the Slytherin dorm. That had better be a fast enough pace for His Majesty to be satisfied with, he thought darkly.

* * *

 **A/N:** _ **Monster in His Eyes**_ **by JM Darhower. Published by JM Darhower April 27, 2014 ASIN: B00JZCLV4S**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: apologies that the action between Draco and Hermione seems to be a long time coming. Theo and Lavender have a few things to sort out first.**

 **Thanks very much to everyone who's following, favouriting and reviewing my story. I truly appreciate the time you've taken.**

* * *

The Gryffindor Quidditch team's eyes were out on stalks during their first practice with Harry since he returned from Durmstrang. He was all but invisible while haring after the snitch; his reflexes were lightning-quick. Maybe faster, thought Ginny, impressed.

The team weren't quite so enamoured of the other practices Harry brought back from Durmstrang, such as a punishing fitness routine. He went slightly easier on the girls, though. For example, they only had to do one hundred sit-ups instead of one hundred and fifty, bless him.

Ginny was lying on the Quidditch pitch, staring up at the sky and gasping for breath when Harry (who hardly broke a sweat) called it a day. The team slowly and grumpily crawled off to the locker rooms to shower and change. Ginny heaved herself upright and made to follow them when Harry fell into step beside her.

'You've really improved, Ginny,' he said encouragingly. 'Your goal precision has significantly increased.'

Ginny blushed, but she doubted Harry noticed because her whole face was tomato-red from exertion. It was a Weasley curse. 'Thanks, but it's not a patch on your improvement. And you were brilliant before you went to Durmstrang!'

'Meh.' Harry waved her praise bashfully away. Then he said, in a low voice 'It's not just your playing that's changed.'

'Huh?' Ginny looked up to find that Harry's brilliant green eyes were focussed intently on her. The look was slightly marred by the nibbling of his lower lip.

Ginny felt something rumbly in her nethers. Is Harry…flirting? Harry Potter, Gryffindor king and Prince of Quidditch? 'Um, what do you mean, exactly?' she asked awkwardly.

Harry stopped walking. So did Ginny. Addressing his broom, Harry said 'Look, I know you're with Zabini and this is probably the absolute worst timing, but I feel I should say that I've liked you for a while, Ginny. Quite a while, in fact. I was going to say something before I left for Durmstrang but…' he trailed off unhappily. 'I don't want to cause any trouble,' he mumbled. 'But I thought I should be truthful.'

He glanced over at Ginny, who stood stock still with her mouth hanging open. 'I – I – don't know what to say,' she stammered.

'Yeah, sorry to blurt it out of the blue like that,' Harry confessed. 'Um, I'd better, er' –

'Yeah, I should' –

'Well, I'll see you around then.'

'Sure.'

They both stumbled to their lockers.

* * *

Ron had been absent most of the afternoon at Quidditch practice, but if Lavender knew Ron, and she did, it would take a plethora of trolls to prevent him from missing a meal. And, true to form, when Lavender arrived at dinner, Ron was already front and centre, defying gravity as he piled towering portions of food after condiment after seasoning onto his plate.

Lavender sat opposite him and waited for Ron to notice her and say hi. After a while, she got tired of waiting and said 'Ron, I need to talk to you.'

Ron looked up in vague surprise. 'Oh hey, Lav. Okay, what about?'

'In private.'

He shrugged. 'Rightio.'

'After dinner?'

'Ah, sorry, the team's meeting to go through some play formations for the game on the weekend.' He scowled. 'You never can be too sure with those wily Slytherin bastards.'

Lavender swallowed. 'Well, what about afterwards?'

Ron grinned through a mouthful of food. It was a revolting sight. 'Sure, doll.'

* * *

Lavender waited in the Common Room until half past ten, but not a single Gryffindor Quidditch player was to be seen. Whatever, she thought. She stood up, and stomped up the stairs to bed.

* * *

'Oh, gods,' Hermione sighed when she opened the Head Dorm's portrait hole to discover a smirking Draco Malfoy standing on the other side.

'Yes, it is I,' Draco agreed, and stepped through.

'I can't believe it's that time already,' Hermione muttered as she cleared some detritus from the kitchen table. 'Coffee?'

'Yeah, thanks.' Draco sat at the table while Hermione poured something not dissimilar-looking to tar into a couple of mugs.

'Milk or sugar?'

'I'm good, thanks.'

She levitated the cups to the table and slumped in the chair opposite him. She poured some milk and about three heaped spoons of sugar in her coffee, while Draco watched her with amazement. He took a sip of his brew, and prevented himself from spitting it out with great difficulty.

'Salazar's balls, Granger! This stuff could cut through a cauldron like hot knife through butter!'

Hermione shrugged and chugged hers down in three large gulps. Flinging her teaspoon into her empty cup, she drew some pieces of parchment together and picked up a quill. Rubbing her face tiredly, she said 'So, what have you got?'

Draco closed his mouth and got out a folder. 'I think we should keep it simple and have a lottery. It's easy enough to sell tickets with a little advertising. We just need to find a decent lottery prize.'

Draco faltered when he noticed that Hermione seemed to be thrusting her breasts at him. But it turned out she was stretching her back.

'Back troubling you?' Draco asked mildly.

'No,' she lied. 'A lottery sounds fine. Any ideas on what to get as a prize?'

'Has to be something that would appeal to everyone.'

'Right. So no racing brooms.'

'Or a voucher for Flourish and Blotts.'

'Speak for yourself.'

They bickered mildly back and forth, until Draco couldn't stand the sight of Hermione wringing her shoulders and wincing in pain any longer. He stood up.

'Where are you going?' Hermione asked.

He walked around her chair and pulled it out. The chair legs screeched as Hermione fought to keep her balance.

'What the hell are you doing?'

'I'm going to sort out your shoulder tension. You're beginning to look like Quasimodo.'

'I don't need your – oh! Oh…' Again, Hermione's doubts disappeared the moment Draco started kneading her shoulders. Gods, he was perfect. Wait! The massage was perfect.

Her muscles had been screaming out for comfort for a while now, and Draco needed a firm hand to loosen them. In fact, he was concerned that he'd bruise her, but when he started to let up, she moaned and begged him to be harder.

Yeah, he was hard, all right. No worries there, Granger.

He teased out the hard muscle along her shoulders and shoulder blades, and gently massaged her neck and the base of her skull. Hermione was quieter now, just the sound of her breath exhaling when he made headway with a knot.

Eventually he stopped and stepped away, checking that his robes were covering his arousal. 'I've done all I can,' he said shortly.

Hermione turned and looked at him with sleepy eyes. 'Thanks, Malfoy.'

'I could do more, but…'

'But…?'

'I need to use oil. And you have to be topless.'

'There's no way in hell that will ever happen,' said Hermione firmly.

'You'd be lying on your stomach.'

'Snowball's chance in hell, mate.'

Draco shrugged. 'Your choice.' He returned to the table and gathered his papers. 'Go and have a bath, or at the very least, a hot shower. Your muscles need it desperately. Cheerio, Granger.'

And with that, he left the Heads' Dorm.

Granger sat there, thinking. She felt so sleepy. But there wasn't any time for sleep.

A hot shower did sound nice, though.

* * *

 **Hogsmeade**

Lavender waved goodbye to the Patil twins and meandered down the main street of Hogsmeade on her own. She wanted to buy a dress for the Yule Ball, even though Ron still hadn't asked her to go.

She didn't want to be seen buying a dress at Gladrags, but she had no other option. Her other friends (the fashion-conscious ones) had already brought their dresses in Diagon Alley, which had a much more prestigious range of dressmakers. But Lavender couldn't afford them. She put her hands in her robes and glumly wondered what eclectic eyesores the proprietor had in stock.

'You look like you lost a Galleon and found a Sickle.'

Lavender looked up at the amused voice. Theo Nott had appeared from around the corner and was smiling at her.

Blushing, she smiled back. 'Hi, Theo.'

'Where are you headed to?'

She hesitated, then said 'I'm going to Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a dress. A ball dress.'

'Cool. Want some company? I've finished my shopping.'

Lavender nearly passed out from the surprise. 'You actually want to come clothes shopping?' And pixies fly out of my arse, as Seamus would say.

'Sure, why not? You never know: a bloke's perspective could be useful.'

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lavender stuttered 'Sure, thanks.'

They both made their way to the emporium.

* * *

The tingling bell that jingled when Theo opened the door for Lavender sounded like a death knell to her. Oh, this was going to be so pointless, she fretted. Maybe I could magically adjust one of my old dresses –

'Good morning, sir, miss, how I can help you on this lovely day?' A trim little woman with beady eyes and a nose like a beak tottered out from the back of the shop.

'Um, I need a dress,' said Lavender faintly.

The bird-woman raised her thinly-painted eyebrows encouragingly.

'A ball dress,' Theo added helpfully.

'Well, my dear! You've come to the right place!'

We've come to the _only_ place, Lavender thought sarcastically.

'Step right this way, miss, I'll show you what we have in stock.' The bird-woman flitted off to the side of the cramped shop. Lavender looked desperately at Theo, who grinned and followed the woman.

After Theo and Lavender traipsed through endless aisles of school uniforms, babywear and shockingly lurid socks, they found the bird-woman standing proudly next to a suspended clothes rack, positively crammed to the gills with dresses of every conceivable cut and colour.

'Now,' the bird-woman cooed, 'do you have idea what you're after?'

'No,' Lavender said sadly, 'but I have some limitations.'

'Yes?'

'Well, I don't have a lot of money.' She whispered her budget to the bird-woman, whose smile briefly slipped before recovering.

'And I don't want to wear a green or red dress.'

Off to one side, Theo looked at Lavender sharply, but she was doubtfully fingering a frothy-looking dress the colour of silver.

'All righty!' said the bird-woman, determined to make a brave face of things. 'I'll find some dresses in your size and put them in the fitting room for you.'

* * *

Every time Lavender disappeared into the tiny changing room, she was certain Theo would leave. But every time she hesitatingly stepped out of the room, he was there, lounging on a stool that the bird-woman had helpfully transfigured from a hat box.

Lavender dutifully twirled around in front of the mirror while the bird-woman cooed and gushed and honked about how well it suited her, but nothing seemed quite right. The dress she stood in now – a purple taffeta sleeveless dress with a puffy mini skirt was too puffy. And too purple. Woebegone, she met Theo's sympathetic eyes.

'That's the last dress in my price range,' she said.

Theo looked thoughtful. 'What about this one?' he said, walking to the overstuffed rack. He pulled out a floor-length gown in a delicate lilac colour.

'But sir, that's' –

Theo silenced the bird-lady with a look.

'Er, that's a lovely gown, sir, you have impeccable taste.' Recovered, the bird-woman took the dress from Theo and ushered Lavender back into the fitting room.

Even when Lavender slipped the dress over her head, she knew this gown was special. The chiffon material felt as light as a feather and draped beautifully over her body. It had an asymmetrical bodice with a silver shoulder strap and a short cold-shoulder sleeve. The material pleated over the asymmetrical bodice and ended over her midriff on a diagonal. Joining the bodice to the full-length skirt with an asymmetrical waist, was a length of delicate silver beaded lace. The back of the dress even had a small train, that rippled and flowed when she moved.

Even in the room's tiny mirror, she could see it was perfect.

A tear shimmered in her eye.

Holding her breath, she stepped outside. Reaching the mirror, she turned to look not at it, but at Theo.

He was transfixed. His eyes took in every detail: the way the delicate material moved, how it draped across her breasts, and the way the silver lace accented the curve of her waist and hip. 'You look stunning,' he whispered.

Lavender's tear fell.

'What's the matter, my dear?' Bird-woman asked, alarmed. 'Your beau is exactly right. It could have been made for you.'

'I can't afford it.' Lavender's voice wobbled. She saw the price when she put the dress on and nearly had a heart attack.

'I'm sure we can put our heads together and work something out,' soothed Theo. Turning to Bird-woman, he asked 'Can you hold the dress for a few days?'

She pouted, but acquiesced. 'One week,' she said.

* * *

Lavender and Theo trudged up the path to Hogwarts. 'I'm sure there must be a way to secure the dress,' said Theo. 'Can your parents…?'

'Maybe,' she said doubtfully. 'But Father's business has been slow lately.'

'Maybe the shop takes instalment payments?'

'Maybe.'

It wasn't until they were halfway back to the school when Lavender recalled what Bird-woman called Theo. Her 'beau.'

She'd entirely forgotten to correct the lady.

* * *

A couple of mornings later, Lavender was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, picking away at a fruit salad and reading one of Hermione's naughty romances. Ron had still yet to fit her into his busy schedule so that she could tell him she was having serious doubts about their relationship.

A racket of fluttering feathers announced the arrival of the owls. They soared overhead, clutching letters and parcels in their claws, searching for the right recipient.

Lavender wasn't expecting anything, so she was more than surprised when a ginormous owl dumped a large, light, rectangular box on top of her fruit salad, also crushing Parvati's toast and Neville's porridge.

'Bloody 'ell!' Tha' box is massive!' Ron exclaimed from across the table, stating the obvious with his mouth full.

It certainly grabbed the attention of the table. 'It looks like a dress box!' Ginny said excitedly. 'Did you buy a dress?'

'No,' said Lavender in confusion. She looked over the box. It was plain, with no address or marks on it.

'Well, go on! Open it!' urged Parvati, wrecked toast forgiven.

Lavender cleared a space on the table, took a knife and sawed off the knotted string that held the box together. She removed the lid and pushed the tissue paper apart.

She thought she screamed, but in fact only a strangled squeak left her throat.

For there, lying in the tissue paper, was the lilac dress. Sitting on top of the dress was a receipt, indicating it had been paid in full.

Lavender turned white, and sat back hard on the bench.

'Omigod omigod omigod!' squealed Ginny and Parvati in unison. 'It looks beautiful!'

'C'mon then, Lav!' called Seamus Finnegan, who, like the rest of the table, was looking on with curiosity. 'Take it out and show us!'

'Utter imbecile!' spat Parvati. 'It's for the Yule Ball. You can see it then.'

'Can Parvati and I have a look later?' asked Ginny hopefully.

'Sure,' said Lavender faintly. She looked across to the Slytherin table, where Theo was eating his breakfast. He met her eyes and raised his eyebrows.

It must have been him, thought Lavender dazedly. He must have bought the dress.

* * *

Draco chased the last of his cereal around the bowl. 'What's got the Gryffindorks aflutter this morning?' he asked.

Blaise, who was closest to the Gryffindor table, reported 'Brown received a dress.'

'Is that all?' Draco scoffed. 'Gods, they're an excitable bunch.'

Theo stirred his coffee, silent. He knew Lavender would look beautiful in her dress at the Ball. Regardless of who escorted her. Even if it was the Weasel.

Just to see her in it would make it worthwhile.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: non-Dramione lemons ahead.**

* * *

Lavender was not normally a girl given to introspection. But she had a feeling that the decision she had to make was Very Important. She'd best make a list.

On a rare warm afternoon, Lavender took some parchment, some ink, a quill, an apple and herself, and set off for the lake. Finding a spot under a tree, she lay down on her tummy, spread out the instruments, took a bite from her apple, and started.

 **Ron Weasley**

 _Pros:_

 _I've known him for years_

 _He's a Gryffindor_

 _He likes me. Or, at least, he likes having sex with me._

 _Cons:_

 _Obsessed with Quidditch_

 _Eats like a deranged werewolf at full moon_

 _Can't kiss_

 _Hasn't asked me to the bloody Yule Ball yet_

 _Keeps stealing my knickers._

 **Theo Nott**

 _Cons:_

 _He's a Slytherin_

 _He's friends with that twat Malfoy_

 _I don't know him very well_

 _It's all rather sudden._

 _Pros:_

 _He's smart_

 _He's gorgeous_

 _He's an amazing kisser_

 _He smells nice_

 _He has manners_

 _He bought me a dress. I know it was him!_

She picked up her apple core. 'Which one would you choose?' she asked it, Yorick-style.

Nearby, a throat cleared. 'Am I interrupting?'

Lavender yelped and looked up, shoving her parchment down her jumper, blushing when she saw Theo standing near the tree, looking handsome, one eyebrow raised in interest.

'No! No, I think I'm done,' Lavender stuttered. Her jumper rustled while she brushed bits of leaf and grass off her robes. Theo sat down next to her and smiled.

'You have some leaves in your hair,' he remarked.

'Oh, blast!' Lavender clutched her hair. 'Where?'

'Hold still, I'll get them.'

And hold still she did, hardly breathing, while Theo leaned over and gently untangled the leaves from her blonde curls. Oh, his cologne…. I think it's doing something funny to my heart. It's banging away at a mile a minute. Should I put that on the list as a pro or a con?

Meanwhile, Theo had rounded up the leaves and presented them to Lavender as a posy. Smiling, she took the collection and marvelled at the colours: emerald green, mixed with shades of orange, yellow and red. It was really quite beautiful. Then she remembered.

'You can't see the colours, can you?' she asked sadly.

'No. But it doesn't matter. I can see the colour of your eyes.'

Lavender looked up to see Theo looking at her seriously.

'Thank you for the dress,' she murmured.

Theo quirked his lips. 'Dress? What dress?'

Lavender smiled a little. 'I can't afford to pay you back but I can give you what I have' –

'Your money's no good here, Brown,' Theo asserted. 'The saleslady was right. That dress was made for you.'

Lavender blushed and looked down at her legs.

Theo cleared his throat. 'Has Weasley asked you to the Ball yet?'

She sighed. 'No.'

'Oh.'

Lavender took a deep breath. 'I've been thinking about you. And Ron.'

Theo raised an eyebrow. 'Not together, I hope,' he said mildly.

She giggled. 'No. I think I've decided what I want to do.' She bit her lip and looked around. 'Do you know somewhere where we can talk? I'd rather not have someone hiding behind a bush, broadcasting every word.'

Theo thought. 'I know a place that's close.' He scrambled up and held out a hand to Lavender, polite as always.

She took it.

* * *

Theo and Lavender walked down a wonky maze of steps until they found themselves staring at the arched entrance to the boathouse. Theo checked the door. With a simple _Alohamora_ , it creaked open.

Lavender followed him inside, despite the many varied types of butterfly flapping madly in her stomach.

They sat on the floor overlooking the dock in the centre of the boathouse, dangling their legs over the dark, rippling water. Lavender drew out her parchment, and folded it. Theo leaned back on his arms, content to wait until she was ready.

'I listed the pros and cons of being Ron's girlfriend,' she started. 'But I won't embarrass you or insult him by telling you what they are.'

The side of Theo's mouth quirked up.

'Then I listed the pros and cons of being with you,' she said, voice wobbling a little. 'Something that worries me is the speed at which this has developed. It's really fast. Scarily fast.'

Theo nodded. 'I understand that it seems fast to you. I guess it's time for me to confess that I've liked you for a while now. But I was unsure about how you would feel about being with a Slytherin, and then you were with Ron, so…'

He's liked me for a while? she thought. Omigod that's so cute!

Actually, thought Theo, it wasn't quite the whopper Draco would have assumed. Lavender had a fresh-faced, naïve happiness to her that Theo found… interesting.

'Okay,' Lavender smiled. And blushed. 'Actually, you've covered off nearly all of the cons – except one.' She bit her lip.

'What's that?'

She looked at him square on. 'You're friends with Malfoy.'

Heat lightly stained Theo's cheeks. 'Um, could you explain…?'

'He's, well, he's _Malfoy!_ How is he going to react to you slumming it with a Gryffindor? Not a very smart one, at that. I don't want to cause trouble. I don't want him causing trouble, either. It'll be hard enough telling my Gryffindor mates to pull their heads in when they find out. If they find out.'

Theo slowly sat upright. Then he looked at Lavender with such intensity that she forgot to breathe. 'We're both mature enough to deal with whatever comes our way,' he said in a low voice. 'If Malfoy is going to be a dick about it, I'll deal with him. Happily.'

He let out a sigh of breath. 'This isn't about Malfoy,' he said, and hoped that lightning wouldn't strike him dead.

'And Lavender,' he added seriously, 'you're not dumb, and I would not be slumming it with you. At all.'

Lavender looked at her parchment, then slowly ripped it into pieces. Extending her hand over the water, she opened her fingers, and the pieces of parchment floated down, and trickled away.

'What's your decision?' whispered Theo, close to her ear.

She turned her face so she could feel his warm breath on her lips. 'You.'

Theo closed his eyes briefly, then he cupped her neck with one hand and drew her gently to his mouth.

* * *

Theo took their robes and transfigured them into soft, bulky blankets. Lavender luxuriated in them, but she was far more taken with the feel of Theo's warm body, stretched out alongside hers. He leaned on an elbow as he dipped down for kiss after blissful kiss, while his free hand slowly removed her tie. Her head swimming, she sat up to remove her jumper, but Theo stayed her hand.

'You don't have to if you don't want to,' he said.

Lavender melted. Ron, her only lover to date, never asked what she wanted. He tended to attack her like she was a Christmas present, and like all little boys, he just couldn't wait to get rid of the wrapping to play with the goodies inside. She smiled beatifically. 'I want to,' she affirmed.

She removed her jumper and lay back down on the blankets, surrendering to another perfect kiss.

They continued kissing while Theo slowly unbuttoned her shirt, and pulled the material apart. Lavender felt his erection - next to her hip - harden with each undone button.

He ran his lips and tongue down Lavender's neck, tasting her, journeying to her breasts. She wore a simple white bra, designed more to keep her sizeable breasts from escaping than for sexy seductions of Slytherins, and she was a tad embarrassed until Theo looked up from her breasts and whispered 'Gods, you are exquisite.'

A moan escaped her throat.

She looks so beautiful against the blankets, thought Theo hungrily. Dishevelled hair, flushed cheeks, and every time she breathes her breasts beckon me like sirens. Merlin. I could spend hours in between her breasts alone. But meanwhile…

Adjusting his aching erection inside his trousers, he ran both hands up her legs and over her thighs. He brought his hands underneath her skirt, sliding along her thighs and hips until he encountered her panties. He stopped.

Lavender, with one hand on a bra-covered breast, massaging it, looked him in the eye and lifted her hips.

He grinned, and slowly, oh-so-slowly, pulled her panties down over her legs. He ran a tantalising finger along her thigh, and…

Lavender keened when he touched her soaking wet pussy.

Theo pushed her skirt up, all the better to see what he was doing. He'd thought, quite a bit, about Lavender's pussy after that too-short view when they initially collided. He had to admit, the reality was even better than the fantasy. She was neatly trimmed, and her slick pink folds looked delectable. His mouth watered, and he hoped he could minister to her appropriately without - or before - coming in his pants like a – well, like a schoolboy.

His fingers glided over her pussy, and his ears rang with the sound of Lavender's hitched breaths, moans and eventually, wails. Sometimes she would tell him how good it felt; other times she made no sense at all.

Sliding down further onto the blankets, he parted her folds with his wet fingers, sank his mouth onto her cunt and circled her clitoris with his tongue.

The effect was electric. 'Oh my GODS!' shrieked Lavender, and her body arched off the blankets. Theo placed his free hand across her pelvis to keep her steady while licking and sucking the prettiest, most delicious pussy he'd ever had. She tasted like the ocean after a rainstorm. He wondered if he could become addicted to it.

With his tongue still torturing her clitoris, Theo slowly pushed two fingers inside her. Dear gods, another revelation. She was so tight, almost unbearably so. Stupidly, Theo wondered how his cock would feel inside her, and he very nearly lost it. He withdrew and sat still, breathing hard and concentrating on bringing his erection under control.

'Theo?' Lavender sat up on her elbows, concerned. 'Are you okay?'

He looked at her, sprawled half-naked on the blankets, her skirt around her hips, shirt undone, her face flushed and eyes sparkling with lust.

He smiled at her. 'You are so incredibly lovely,' he admitted.

Her lips parted.

'But I'm not finished,' he smiled, and lay between her thighs once more.

* * *

Lavender was fighting hard to keep her body on the ground. If she let go and gave into the sensations, she'd float to the top of the boathouse. She'd never felt like this with Ron, although that might have something to do with the fact that he'd never gone down on her before.

She thought she was in heaven when Theo licked and sucked her pussy. But when he eased two fingers inside her while still doing indescribable things to her clitoris, her whole body felt hot and tingly and shaky.

She stared unseeingly up at the chains and overbridge above her while the most unusual feeling grew, then hijacked, her body.

Theo curled his fingers inside her, stimulating her G-spot. Lavender's body went rigid, and she wailed in ecstasy. He sat up, watching the expression on her face as she came for him. He kept moving his fingers inside her while he transferred a thumb to her clitoris, drawing her pleasure out.

Eventually, Lavender regained breathless control of her body. Even so, when Theo _scourgified_ them and pulled her into his arms, he could still feel her shaking. Worried, he pulled some of the blankets around her body.

'I'm not cold,' she whispered. 'But I don't know what happened.'

Theo was confused. 'Come again?'

'My body…. at the end, I just lost control of it. That's never happened before.'

'Um – was that your first orgasm?' he asked incredulously.

Lavender looked at him suspiciously. 'Did I have an orgasm?'

Theo nodded. Weasley, you useless limp dick, he thought.

Lavender's eyes turned stone cold. Oh my bloody gods, she thought. Every time Ron and I had sex, I mistook that vague warm, wet feeling between my legs for an orgasm. He always came before that feeling could develop further.

She sat up. 'I'll kill him!' she spat. 'Where are my knickers?'

* * *

Little did everyone know that dinner time in the Great Hall that evening would achieve almost legendary status as one of the most entertaining ever experienced.

'You coming, or what?' Ginny called out to Lavender from the foot of the dormitory stairs.

Lavender looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were smouldering, and her lips were thin with rage. 'I'll be a few minutes; go on without me.'

Ginny did. Lavender's been acting rather strange, she thought, as she coasted down the flights of stairs to the Great Hall. But then, we all have our own problems, thinking of Blaise and Harry. Men, she snorted to herself. You wait ages for one to come along, and they all arrive at once.

Lavender thought about making some notes on parchment to keep her on track while she told Ron what she thought of him, but acknowledged it would look pretty naff. She was pretty sure she could keep it in her head.

She went to her closet and touched her ball dress lightly, for luck. Ginny, Parvati and practically every other Sixth and Seventh Year girl in Gryffindor went bananas with envy when she took it out of the box. The Bird-woman should brace herself for the next Hogsmeade trip, she thought. Otherwise she'll be trampled by a horde of teenage girls making a bee-line to the ball gown rack.

It's too early to be in love with Theo, isn't it? she thought pensively.

First things first, Brown. Dump Ron, then go out with Theo. This afternoon was an aberration, she thought guiltily.

She squared her shoulders, held her head high, and made her way to the Great Hall.

* * *

'Ron?'

'Huh? 'Oo said tha'?' munched Ron, looking up and down the table until he thought to look behind him. 'Oh. Hiya, Lav. You eating?'

'No, Ron, I need to speak with you. It's urgent.'

Ron turned back to the table and grasped a chicken leg. 'Can't it wait, love? Dinner's just started.'

Lavender's hands curled into fists and she stamped a foot hard on the floor before she could stop herself. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Parvati and Neville, who were all sitting around Ron, jumped and turned to look at her. Ron kept spooning in great globs of cauliflower cheese into his mouth.

'I have been 'waiting,' Ronald Bilius Weasley, for the past solid week to talk to you! Does 'after Quidditch practice' ring a bell? 'After Hogsmeade'? 'After prefect duty'?'

Ron smarted. 'Yeah, well, it's busy being me, right?'

'Five minutes of your time, Ronald, is all I asked for! Five bloody minutes where we talk with our clothes on instead of being ripped off and scattered to the four winds!'

Neville and Hermione turned red, while the rest of the Gryffindor spectators supressed giggles.

'And since you can't spare me five fucking minutes to talk to me in private, I will talk to you now.' Lavender crossed her arms and gave him the gimlet eye. 'I am breaking up with you, Ronald.'

'Eh?' Ron's brow scrunched up. 'Sorry, love, it's a little loud in here. Sounded like you said you were breaking up with me.' He sniggered.

Ginny put her head in her hands. This was just too painful to watch.

Lavender bent down so she was at eye level with her now ex-boyfriend. 'That's exactly what I said, you clot!' she roared, at one of those opportune times when everyone in the Great Hall is eating and no-one is talking.

'But-but Lav,' protested Ron. 'You can't break up with me! Who will take you to the Yule Ball in your fancy frock?'

'You never even asked me to go!'

Ron scratched his head. 'Oh, yeah, I knew I'd forgotten to do something.'

Lavender shrieked in frustration.

People in other Houses were standing up, watching the events unfold. Theo was one of a tiny handful of Slytherins who kept eating their dinner.

Ron had now noticed that he was the centre of attention, and not in a good way. Time for some damage control. 'Well, whatever, toots,' he said carelessly. 'You go your way, and I'll go mine. Don't you worry. When you go stag to the Ball, I'll be there with the best-looking bird in school! I'm a Quidditch star, and a prefect. The girls will be lining up to have a go with Ron Weasley, and they'll be worth ten of you! If you can count that high.'

His smug expression was slightly marred by the massive sausage he'd just crammed into his yap.

'Oh, dear gods,' sighed Hermione.

Lavender straightened up. 'In that case, I feel it is my duty to conduct an essential public service. Neville, could you scoot over, please?'

Awed, Neville scooted to the side. Lavender held out her hand to him, and he took it and helped her stand on the bench. Lavender drew out her wand, and held it to her throat.

'Fellow female students,' Lavender announced. 'It is my solemn duty to announce that Ronald Bilius Weasley (she put some extra emphasis on the 'Bilius') is single and looking for a new girlfriend. 'Before you trample over yourselves in the rush to hang off his arm, you should be aware of the following facts.

'Number one: he has the most appalling table manners of any student in this school. Should you wish to go on a diet, girls, I advise you to sit opposite him at mealtimes, and you will quickly find yourself robbed of your appetite.'

Ripples of laughter flowed through the tables. Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed, stood up at the Head Table and said 'Miss Brown' –

'Number two!' Lavender continued. 'He kisses like a Saint Bernard dog. No, in fact, a Saint Bernard dog could give him lessons in kissing. Please ensure you wear a bib when he kisses you, otherwise your clothing may never be the same again.'

Amidst the laughter, Ron leapt up from the table and launched himself at Lavender. Harry and Seamus held him back. 'You bought this on yourself, mate,' Harry said, with some (but not much) sympathy.

'Sit down, Ronald!' yelled Ginny in a voice so eerily similar to their Mum's that Ron promptly parked his arse back down on the bench.

'Miss Brown, get down from there immediately!' snapped Professor McGonagall.

The male professors wished they were anywhere but in the Great Hall, while the other female Professors hid their smiles behind their hands.

'Number three!' Lavender continued, undaunted. 'Years One to Five, please put your fingers in your ears. Ron Weasley hasn't got the slightest bloody idea how to give a woman an orgasm, and finally, number four: he always steals your knickers and never gives them back! I'm down to eight pairs of knickers and twenty bras! Thank you for your time; and good night.'

Ron's head rapped out a staccato beat as he banged it on the table.

Lavender hopped down from the bench, with a furiously blushing Neville's help, to the sound of applause, cheers and whistles from the entire student population. Even the Slytherins. She strode out of the Hall with her head held high, clapped on by dozens of cheering girls, with Professor McGonagall bringing up the rear.

'See me in my office after dinner, Miss Brown!'

Lavender felt shaky when she exited the hall. Shaky, but relieved.

* * *

At the Slytherin table, Draco brushed tears of laughter from his eyes. 'Good grief,' he said, as he sat back down to his meal. 'Brown deserves a bloody medal for that performance, not detention. She's given us enough dirt on the Weasel to dine out on for years, eh Nott?'

Theo, having kept eating during Lavender's surprising soliloquy, placed his cutlery on his empty plate. 'I look forward to seeing you make the most of it,' he said. 'Anyway, I'm done. I'm off to the library.' He nodded at Draco, Blaise and the others, and headed off.

Draco watched Theo depart with speculation. Ever since he started on with Brown, he's been acting strange, he thought.

The possibility that Theo's strange behaviour might, just might, have something to do with himself, didn't enter his beautiful blonde head.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Non-Dramione lemons**

Truth be told, Draco was a bit miffed. He never thought of himself as a control freak before. But when you delegate tasks, you lose control of them, and here you are, standing around with your thumb up your arse, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Theo didn't look the least bit perturbed when Draco cornered him in the Boys' lavatories, informing him in no uncertain terms that he was about to run out patience. According to Theo, the information Draco wanted should become available 'within the next few days', he said. 'Or so.'

A tic was starting to develop behind Draco's left eye. ''Or so' is not acceptable,' he growled.

Theo's usually placid countenance morphed into anger. 'Unlike you, I happen to care about people's feelings, and as a result, this sort of thing takes time,' he spat. 'I'm surprised it never occurred to you to rape Granger's mind with Legilimency if you're so desperate to get the information.'

Draco had thought about it, actually. But even he drew the line at that. Not that he would admit it to Theo.

'Quit being such an inconsiderate prat and wait!' Glaring at Draco, Theo strode to the bathroom door and wrenched it open, to Seamus and Dean's surprise, who were just about to enter.

Poking their heads in, they clocked the atmosphere between the two Slytherins, which was decidedly frosty. 'Lover's tiff, eh?' commiserated Seamus. 'We'll leave you to it, then.'

Theo rolled his eyes. 'Fuck off, Finnegan,' he snapped, and stormed out.

Draco glowered at the sniggering Gryffindors. His wand hand was itching, and only the thought of angering Hermione by turning her mates into slugs kept him from drawing it out. 'The sooner you two just come out of the fucking closet, the better,' he snarled, stomping past them and slamming the door on his way out.

Seamus and Dean's sniggers turned into full-blown laughter.

'Huh,' said Seamus, wiping his eyes. What crawled up his arse?'

* * *

'So, Potter…'

Sitting in Transfiguration class, a female voice purred behind Harry's ear. Startled, Harry turned around, and was even more startled to discover that the purry voice belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

He assessed her. Not a strand of glossy black hair was out of place on her head. Her skin was flawless, her eyelashes were lengthy, and her lips were coloured ruby red – even Harry, with his dearth of knowledge of most things girly, guessed that she probably had some sort of make-up on.

He gave her a watery smile.

She rewarded him with a brilliant one of her own. 'How did you find Durmstrang?'

Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall. She was up the front, counselling Neville on a Transfiguration exercise. She'll probably be a while.

'It was hard, but good,' he replied, still unsure why Parkinson was deigning to converse with him. 'Bracing.'

She nodded. 'I hear they have a punishing physical fitness regime.'

Harry smiled. 'That's definitely true.'

'I'd be very interested to hear about their fitness programme.'

Harry's eyebrows shot into his hair. 'Really?'

Pansy arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow of her own. 'You may not know, Potter, but I am very interested in keeping fit.'

Harry shrugged. 'Yeah, all right.'

'Mr Potter! Miss Parkinson! I trust you have completed the exercise I set?' demanded Professor McGonagall from the front of the classroom.

Harry whipped around and applied himself to the exercise, ignoring Ron, sitting next to him with an aghast expression on his face.

* * *

Lavender straightened up and bent backwards, stretching her back. Merlin, she was sore. The detention Professor McGonagall imposed on her was rather surprising. She had to clean the Gryffindor table and benches after every meal for a week. By hand. The only beings more disconsolate than her at this punishment were the house-elves.

It was embarrassing to have to wait until the Gryffindor students had left the Great Hall, to clear away plates and cups and cutlery and platters and food and serviettes and gods-knew what other sort of crap, take them to the kitchens, return with a big bucket of soapy water and brushes and scrub. The first time she did it, she ended up splattering her uniform with scummy water, so now she just ate her meals in her oldest clothes and got changed afterwards.

Which, of course, made her monstrously late to class.

Still, at least Ron left her alone. He still shot evil looks down tables, over desks, and across the Common Room at her, but she didn't care. Someone else occupied her thoughts now.

She felt a bit lonely this Saturday afternoon, sweeping the floor under the Gryffindor table. She and Theo hadn't been able to meet since that orgasmic afternoon at the Boathouse, and she missed him. Since Slytherin were playing Gryffindor at the Quidditch pitch this afternoon, she reasoned that Theo would be over there. She sighed. She hoped they'd be able to get in touch later. It's Saturday night!

She noticed someone's half-scribbled assignment parchment under the bench. She knelt on the floor and reached under the bench to retrieve it.

'Hi.'

'Ow!' Startled, Lavender whacked her head on the bench. She backed out and turned around. Omigod. It was Theo. She smiled radiantly at him. 'Hi! This is a surprise!'

'Are you okay?' Concerned, Theo held a hand out to help her up. 'You took quite a knock to the head.'

Lavender rapped her head lightly. 'Oh, this old thing? It's got a lifetime guarantee.'

Theo laughed. 'I should hope so.'

'I'm really happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the game.'

'Nah. Of course, I'll deny it if you tell anyone, but with Potter back in the Gryffindor team, I think they'll be unbeatable for the rest of the year.'

'Ooh…'

Theo stopped Lavender's teasing with a kiss. A lovely, soft, promising kiss. Her cheeks were pink when they parted.

'I wanted to ask you something kind of important,' Theo confessed. 'I figured most of the school would be at the game so we should have some privacy.'

Lavender's heartrate accelerated.

'I've just got the sweeping up to finish, then I'll go and get changed' –

'You don't have to on my account,' Theo said, looking at her. 'I like what you're wearing.'

Lavender looked down at herself. She was wearing a pair of tight, faded jeans that had more holes than jeans in some places, and a grey ribbed singlet. Her long hair was bundled out of the way in a scarf. She thought she looked a fright, but Theo's eyes glittered as he assessed every inch of her.

'Okay,' she murmured. 'But I still want to wash my hands and freshen up.'

'No prob,' he said easily. 'Can I help you with anything?'

Lavender's mouth fell open. Not only had she never heard of a Pureblood male offering to help with domestic chores, but she'd never heard of a male offering to help with domestic chores.

'I'm nearly done,' she assured him.

Finishing the sweeping with lightning speed, she returned her instruments of torture to the kitchen (to the relief of the house-elves, who popped out to the Great Hall to re-clean the table) and headed into the lavatory just outside the Great Hall.

She washed and scrubbed her hands, arms and face. Untying the scarf, she shook out her long curls, looked in the mirror and decided that the pink-cheeked, windswept look will just have to do. She wasn't sure what to do with her long scarf, so she quickly hooked it into the loops of her jeans around her waist.

Theo was leaning against the wall when she came out of the lavatory. His smile made butterflies take flight in her tummy again. 'You look wonderful,' he said.

'Thanks,' she blushed, and took his hand. He linked their hands together and headed to the stairs descending to the Slytherin dorms.

She hesitated at the top of the stairs. 'Will this be okay?' she asked doubtfully.

Theo squeezed her hand. 'Everyone should be at the game. Don't worry.'

'Er, 'should be'?'

'Where's that famous Gryffindor courage?' he teased.

She mock-glared at him, and started down the steps.

* * *

As Theo predicted, the Slytherin Common Room was empty. It was just as well. When Lavender entered the cavernous room, she was struck dumb by its austere beauty. The massive walls were severely decorated in elaborate bronze _trompe l'oiel._ The slate fireplaces looked huge enough to roast a Hippogriff in. Leather chairs, low tables and green-hued lamps were spread across the room. She could have done without the skull motif, but what made her stop and stare were the tall, beautiful green stained-glass windows, whose light rippled onto the flagstone floor and seating areas.

'This room is under the lake,' Theo said, watching her. He pointed at the windows. 'Look.'

She did, and to her shame, she squealed when the long tentacles of the lake's Giant Squid sailed silently past.

Theo, laughing, drew her into his arms. 'I didn't mean to frighten you,' he smiled. Forgive me?'

She poked her tongue out at him.

He grinned and gently kissed her forehead. 'Come on. I'll show you my room.'

* * *

'Your own room,' Lavender said in a hushed voice as she stepped inside. 'Wow.'

Theo leaned against his tallboy as she circled the room. 'After six years of listening to Crabbe and Goyle snore and fart their way through sleep, having your own room is a blessing.'

She wrinkled her nose. 'Who's to say you're not a loud snorer yourself?'

He raised an eyebrow. I've had no complaints.'

Lavender hoped that didn't mean he'd had girls sleep here.

She stopped at his desk and watched a brass orrery slowly rotate, the gem-like planets revolving in their orbits. 'So pretty,' she breathed.

'I built it.'

She looked back at him. 'No kidding?'

'I like doing stuff with my hands.' He smirked.

Okay, that just made her knickers very wet.

She inched over to his four-poster bed and sat primly down on it. Theo eased himself away from the tallboy and sat next to her.

He took one of her hands and gently rubbed his thumb over it. 'Lavender,' he began, 'there's something I want to ask you. A couple of things, actually.'

Wow. He was being so serious. 'What are they?'

Theo looked up from her hand and into her eyes. 'Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?' he asked.

Lavender's face was radiant. 'Yes, of course I will!'

'Great!' Theo smiled in relief.

'The second question is kind of related to the first question. When we attend the Ball, everyone will see that we're a couple. I don't want to continue sneaking around like we're ashamed of each other. If we have a relationship, people will have to accept it. So the second question is: will you be my girlfriend?'

Lavender felt tears threatening behind her eyes, but through sheer will, she forced them back. 'I would love to be your girlfriend, Theo,' she whispered.

Theo raised her hand and kissed it. Then he scooted closer and drew her face close to his. 'Thank you,' he whispered back, before he kissed her.

The slow, sweet kiss built in desire. Soon, their tongues dipped and swirled in each other's mouths, giving, taking. Their breathing grew harsh as they explored each other.

Lavender felt hot, so hot. She craved his hands and mouth on her body. She moaned into his mouth with need.

Theo pulled back a little. He brushed her cheekbone with his thumb as he stared at her expressive face. 'Will you come to bed with me?' he asked in a low voice.

Lavender drew in a shaky breath. I should probably say no, she thought. If I say yes, he might think I'm a slut. She looked once more at Theo, sitting across from her with his lips swollen from her kiss, and his hair mussed by her hands. He saw her hesitation, and his eyes clouded with self-doubt. He looked down at his bed.

Actually, I think everything will be all right, she thought.

She stood up. Theo looked up in alarm.

She removed her singlet and let it fall to the floor. In her jeans and bra, she stepped toward him, leaned down and kissed his upturned face.

* * *

Getting naked was sinfully slow and arousing. Lavender lay on Theo's bed while he knelt over her and plotted a trail of heated kisses down her throat, over her breasts and down to her waist, where he undid the scarf belt and slowly peeled the jeans down her legs.

Once done, she sat up and pulled Theo's t-shirt up over his chest, trailing kisses in the opposite direction: from his taut waist, over his abdominal muscles, to his chest, then to his throat. She had never seen a male body so toned, so beautiful, before.

When they were both down to underwear, Lavender reached behind her and unclipped her bra. Theo drew the straps down her arms, and finally revealed her breasts.

He knelt before them, stock-still.

'Theo? Is something wrong?'

He blinked. 'Are you kidding?' he exclaimed hazily. 'I need to confess. I'm a breast man. And your breasts are the most exquisite I have ever seen.'

She blushed.

Theo shakily extended a hand towards them, and closed his eyes in bliss when he palmed one. Rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, both he and Lavender moaned.

Theo leaned over the other breast and applied his lips and tongue all over, as if he was mapping it. He gently pinched her nipple, mimicking the movements of the other breast with his tongue and lips, revelling in Lavender's broken cry.

He removed Lavender's wet panties, looking forward to reintroducing himself to her beautiful pussy. He hopped off the bed, and, facing her, pulled down his boxer briefs.

Her mouth fell open. 'Oh, dear gods,' she whispered.

She'd had an idea that he was, you know, _big,_ from what she could feel underneath his clothes. But the erection that was standing out at right angles from Theo's body was BIG. Ron's 'mini-Weasley' was mini, indeed.

'You okay?' Theo wasn't sure if Lavender's 'oh dear gods' and ever-widening eyes was a good thing or a bad thing.

'Big…' said Lavender faintly, unable to tear her eyes away from it.

Theo looked down at himself. He grinned lopsidedly and climbed back onto the bed. 'We'll figure something out,' he said. He grasped his wand from the bedside table and locked and sound-proofed the room. 'In case someone comes back.' Then he turned to the lovely naked girl, lying on his bed, nibbling her lower lip, and said 'Let me show you how much I want you.'

She smiled then, and acquiesced.

* * *

Lavender knew it. She'd won some fantastic lottery that she didn't know she'd entered, and first prize was the most handsome, skilled, attentive lover in all of Wizarding England. So what if they made a mistake and drew the wrong name out of the tombola, and any moment now someone's going to blast Theo's door down and parcel him up, kicking and screaming, to be delivered to the rightful winner, who no doubt will be some exotic tart with long creamy legs and boobs so big and perky you could rest a tea set on them?

Actually, she'd be pretty devastated if that were the case.

Don't look gift horses in the mouth, Brown, she thought. Or inside any other part of a horse, for that matter,

* * *

Resting under the blankets, curled in Theo's warm, strong arms, she re-visited the highlights of that afternoon.

Like when Theo produced her scarf, dangling it over her body with a teasing glint in his eye. 'I have a use for this,' he said. 'Close your eyes.'

He covered her eyes with the scarf and kissed her lips. With one of her senses out of commission, she felt somewhat at sea. Theo was on the bed, but he wasn't touching her.

'Theo?'

'Shh.'

A finger landed lightly on her lips, while he drew one of her nipples into his mouth. She arched off the bed, wanting more. He didn't disappoint. He gently rubbed the insole of her foot and even managed to make that feel sexy. But when he took her big toe into his mouth, sucking it and twirling his tongue around it, just like a man's cock, she squealed with surprise and insane desire. She was rather worried that she was going to start leaking onto his bedspread.

Then he took her hand and gently spread her fingers apart. Then he did the most innocuous thing: he applied his tongue to the webbing between her index and middle finger, and licked. It felt _so_ damn dirty and _so_ damn good.

'Wha-, how, _how_ do you know these things?' Lavender stuttered after she nearly went into orbit after his last trick.

Theo laid between her legs and removed the scarf so she could see his cheeky grin. 'Some of it's experience,' he confessed, 'and some of it's instinct.'

'Wow,' she said, still trying to get her breath back. 'Your past lovers must be kicking themselves.'

His face was serious. 'No-one matters but you,' he said.

* * *

Of course, when he entered her - she'll never forget that. Going for the classic missionary position, he leaned above her, and slowly slid into her soaking pussy – without using his hands to guide himself. She watched emotions trace over his face as he moved further and further in, and when he was fully out inside her, a moan fell from his mouth. 'Gods, you feel incredible, sweetheart, you feel so good…'

She knew he went slow so that she could accommodate him. With her legs stretched wide, she felt so damn full, and to her amazement, the tingly-body feeling began even while neither of them were moving. 'Theo,' she moaned brokenly, 'don't move.'

He watched her face as she moved her hips, sliding up and down his erection. Each movement was exquisite. His arms shook, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on for when her orgasm broke and washed over body.

He gritted out 'Lavender!' but that was all the warning he had time to give before he withdrew and surged in hard, over and over and over. She met his brutal thrusts, revelled in them, wrapping her legs around his waist and almost sobbing in need.

He was disgusted in himself when he came after so short a time inside her. His only consolation was that she came with him, too.

He withdrew gently from her, cast _scourgifying_ and contraceptive charms, then collapsed, face-down on the bed next to her.

'Uh, Theo?' Lavender gently poked his arm.

'I am such a fucking failure!' he groaned into his pillow.

Lavender couldn't help it. She started laughing.

'Are you laughing at me, wench?' he growled.

'Theo,' she said, 'I have never had sex so amazing before. If you call what we just did a failure, I don't think I'll be able to survive what you would consider to be a successful session.'

He turned on his side and drew her into his arms. He pulled her hair back and kissed her temple. 'I usually last much, much, longer.'

'I have no doubts whatsoever.'

They drifted off, listening to the sound of the lake water above them.

* * *

Later, as they lay in bed, they talked about their friends.

'I don't see Hermione so much, now that she's in the Heads' Dorm,' Lavender said sleepily. 'Is that how it is with you and Zabini?'

'Yeah.' In fact, Theo was starting to appreciate the mediator role that Blaise played between Draco and himself. And between Draco and everyone else.

'She doesn't look well. She's just got so much on her plate. She wasn't even going to the Yule Ball, but Jason Robards in Ravenclaw asked her, so she's going now.'

Behind her, Theo allowed himself an evil smile. Just a little one.

Very interesting news indeed…

'Is Robards her boyfriend?' Theo asked carefully.

'No,' said Lavender. 'I don't think she's ever had one. Every time a bloke starts showing interest, her so-called guardian angel tells her every last stupid, dumb or evil thing they've ever done, and she backs off.'

'Doesn't sound like a nice guardian angel,' Theo commented.

'Yeah. I betcha he'll try to discredit Robards now he knows about him, but I sincerely doubt that there's any dirt on Robards to find. He's just so….nice.'

Read: boring.

'Well, maybe that guardian angel should learn to pull his head in,' suggested Theo. 'Does he want Granger for himself?'

'I doubt it,' Lavender replied. 'They're like brother and sister. He's just mega-protective.'

He kissed the top of her arm. 'So, her angel is Weasley, then?'

'In the red-headed flesh,' confirmed Lavender.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: another non-Dramione lemon**

* * *

A couple of days later, Theo decided to give Draco a break. Sort of.

As they filed out of the Great Hall after lunch, Theo nudged him and said 'Can I have a quick word?'

Final-fucking-ly! was Draco's heartfelt inner response. They drifted to the vestibule, which was deserted.

Theo looked Draco seriously in the eye. 'Just to warn you, you might not like what you're going to hear.'

'I'm a big boy, mate. I can cope.'

Theo looked away, then back. 'Also, this isn't about who told Granger about you.'

Draco approached the edge of his temper; then sailed right over. 'Merlin's fucking pants, Nott!' he hollered, before collecting himself. 'So what the hell are we talking about, then?'

Theo looked at him coolly, unimpressed by Draco's display. 'Robards from Ravenclaw is taking Granger to the Yule Ball.'

He watched Draco's pale face turn even paler, and his lips thin with anger. 'And who, in Merlin's gods-forsaken universe, is Robards from bloody Ravenclaw?'

'He's the one doing pre-Healer training in the Infirmary with Granger.'

In that instant, all sound vanished for Draco except the cold beat of his heart. He'd left it too damn late to wear her down long enough to convince her to go to the Ball with him, and his monstrous ego made it inconceivable to think that someone else would have the balls to ask her.

The fact that it was that insufferable wet blanket wannabe Healer made his bitter feelings even less palatable to swallow.

'When I hear more, I'll find you,' said Theo.

Draco nodded shortly, unable to trust himself to speak.

Theo headed back into the school, an ugly smirk playing on his handsome face.

* * *

Ginny was in a pickle. She needed to speak to her best friend. Hermione had missed lunch, again, so Ginny packed up a few titbits and headed up to the Heads' Dorm.

She whispered the password to the crabby old hag on portrait duty (Blaise is really useless at keeping secrets!) and let herself in.

The Common Room was deserted but elaborately decorated in Yule Ball paraphernalia, so she hopped up the stairs and knocked gently on Hermione's door.

'Go away!' called a broken voice.

'Hermione? It's Ginny. Are you okay? I bought you something to eat.'

There was a silence, then the door unlocked and opened.

Worried, Ginny stepped into a bedroom in near-darkness. A few chinks of light from the closed curtains revealed Hermione curled up on her bed, clutching her head with both hands. 'Close the door,' she croaked.

Ginny did so. 'Are you sick?' she whispered. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Could you get me a cold compress, please?'

'Sure.' Ginny set the lunch tray on Hermione's bed and scooted to the bathroom. When she returned with the compress, Hermione had uncurled herself and was propped against her pillows.

'Thanks, hon.' Hermione accepted the compress gratefully and applied it to her forehead.

Ginny sat on the other side of the bed. 'Headaches still?' she asked.

Hermione nodded, then winced. 'I took some headache powders. With the compress, I should be okay in half an hour or so.'

'You shouldn't take medicine on an empty stomach,' Ginny admonished. 'You should try and eat something. Have some fruit.' She proffered a plate under Hermione's nose. Not for nothing was she the daughter of Molly Weasley.

'Thanks for coming up.' Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand.

Ginny blushed. 'Actually, there was a reason why I came to see you,' she admitted. 'But it can wait until you're better.'

'Do I have to do anything?'

'Not really. Listen, and dispense awesome advice. As always.'

'I can do that here. No, go on, I insist,' Hermione said when Ginny demurred.

'Okay.' Ginny sighed. 'Well, I got a letter from Mum today. I wrote to her about going out with Blaise. She's absolutely thrilled.'

'Eh?' Hermione said. 'How come? Surely she's not into Pureblood status?'

'No,' Ginny admitted. 'It's just that she's always wanted the best for me, but being part of a tribe of children has meant that sometimes we've had to do without. Luckily there aren't any tuition fees at Hogwarts, otherwise none of us would have been able to attend.'

Hermione tried to imagine what Hogwarts would be like without any of the Weasleys filling it with their own brand of love, laughter and happiness. And, in Percy's case, pompousness.

She honestly couldn't.

'In a nutshell, Mum and Dad are thrilled with Blaise because he's rich. And, in Mum's words, he can 'make sure I lack for nothing and can give me everything my heart desires.''

'That's a rather romantic way to be pragmatic,' Hermione murmured.

'Quite normal in Pureblood circles, I can assure you,' Ginny said morosely.

'Well, just because you're dating now doesn't necessarily mean you'll be marrying him.'

Silence.

Hermione lifted the compress off an eye. 'Gin?'

'Harry spoke to me.'

Ah. Sometimes Hermione hated being the smartest person around. She got to hear _everything._

'What did he say?' she asked neutrally.

'He likes me. But won't take it further because of Blaise.'

'Sounds like it's your choice, hon.'

Ginny sighed. 'My parents are everything to me. I don't want to the let them down. And Harry's an orphan. No dosh.'

'Yet, you like him, right?'

An even bigger sigh from Ginny.

Hermione opened her arms. 'Come here,' she whispered.

Ginny laid down on the bed and curled into Hermione's arms.

* * *

Runes.

Ancient fucking Runes.

Draco wished he were anywhere but in this classroom.

Such as being in whatever classroom Jason 'My Life is Going to be Severely Shortened' Robards is in.

Granger looked the same as him, although he doubted her surly face had little to do with slowly roasting Robards over an open fire and more to do with her neck pain. He'd seen that same look before on his mother. If he didn't know better, and of course he did, he was Draco Malfoy after all – Granger was being afflicted with daily headaches.

He was just too damn pissed off to care at the mo.

He barely listened to Professor Babbling babble away about who knows and who cares, making doodles on his parchment that looked eerily like instruments of torture.

Finally, class ended, and Draco reared up out of his seat, lightly bumping Hermione as she struggled out of hers.

She threw him a venomous look that didn't quite disguise the pain behind her eyes.

Oh, no. Wrong day to piss off a Malfoy, lady.

Draco slammed his textbook loudly on his desk, relishing her wince at the sound. 'Listen, princess,' he snarled in her face, 'the whole school is getting sick of tip-toeing around you while you go on ignoring the desperate cries for help your body is sending you. Get some help for your neck and your back before something much worse happens to you!'

With that, he picked his textbook up and stormed out of the class, leaving a rather surprised bunch of students in his wake.

* * *

Harry eventually agreed to show Pansy what he'd learned at Durmstrang, otherwise known fondly as the Fortress of Pain. They met down at the Quidditch pitch one evening, making the most of what was left of the light.

He wasn't quite sure how he ended up in the showers between Pansy's legs, fucking her with his fingers while he ravenously ate her pretty pussy out, but that was by the by.

Pansy shuddered and wailed in response to his ministrations, then slid down to the shower floor and licked Harry's chin and lips with her long tongue, savouring the taste of herself on him, before moving into his mouth.

'You're a man of many talents, Mr Potter,' she breathed, loving the feeling of the warm shower water beating over her back and sluicing down her breasts.

'Uh… cheers,' said Harry, still a little dazed.

She looked down at the erection Harry was sporting while he leant against the shower tiles. Oh, goody. He was huge! She could have a lot of fun with that. 'Let me take care of that for you, Harry,' she purred, crawling over to him.

She knew that if sucking cock was a school subject, she'd be awarded an Exceeds Expectations with no trouble at all. Hell, she could probably lecture on it. She flicked Harry a saucy wink before moving over his cock and opening her mouth.

…

'HOLY FUCKING HELL!'

Harry's words bounced off the shower walls and escaped into the evening.

* * *

Another day. More of the same. Nothing fucking changes around here when you want it to.

Draco pushed the last of his steak and kidney pudding around his plate, glaring holes Robards' back, who was happily guzzling his dinner at the Ravenclaw table, completely oblivious to the menace brewing behind him.

When Draco got bored with that, he switched to his usual object of scrutiny – Granger. At least she made an effort to turn up for a meal, this time. Although she probably shouldn't have. He watched the She-Weasel put some food on a plate to try and encourage Granger to eat, but she just got snapped at for her troubles. Hence, a little space had cleared around Hermione at the Gryffindor table, a symbol of her desire to obviously be left the hell alone.

Something was wrong, though. Well. More wrong than usual.

Draco leaned forward, squinting.

Granger was silently crying.

She'd lowered her head, pretending to look at her plate, but Draco watched large, silent tears collect on her cheeks and fall into her mashed potato.

He thought back to his Mother, a few years ago. He'd come across her by accident. She was in the parlour, curled up on the floor. She looked up at his worried call, and her face was wreathed in pain and tears. She had a migraine.

Oh, gods! Draco grizzled. I told her something worse would happen, but would Miss-bloody-know-it-all listen?

He stood up, just as Hermione clutched her head with her hands. Then she began to scream.

Her cries tore at Draco's heart.

He leapt over not just Slytherin's table but also Ravenclaw's, reaching her side while everyone around Hermione just stared at her in horror. Snapping 'Water jug, now!' to Weaselette, he wrenched off his tie and transfigured it into a wider cloth while he supported Hermione with his other arm. Dumping the water from the jug onto it, he wrung out the excess with Ginny's help and wrapped the cloth around her forehead and eyes.

'Shh, Granger, you'll be okay,' he whispered, shrugging off his robe and using it to cover her eyes and ears. Hermione's screams still filled the air, but he could feel her struggle to resist them. Once he'd applied the cool cloth, shielded her eyes and tried to muffle the noise around them, he felt the tension in her body lessen a tiny fraction.

He gathered her up in his arms, careful not to expose her face or head. By now, Madam Pomfrey had dashed down from the Head Table, closely followed by a white-faced Professor McGonagall.

'Mr Malfoy' – Madam Pomfrey began.

He turned around, trying not to jiggle Hermione. 'She's got a migraine. I've tried to reduce her sensitivity to light and sound, and I'm taking her to the Infirmary.'

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall boggled at him. 'How did you know?' McGonagall asked.

'Personal experience,' Draco snapped, and strode out of the Hall, Hermione clutching his neck in a death grip.

The two ladies hastened after him.

* * *

Hermione had never felt such pain in her life before. The headaches she'd been experiencing were like being tickled by a feather compared to the sledgehammer that was pounding out a polka inside her head. Every noise seemed magnified a thousand times and echoed incessantly. Her eyes hurt from the light so much that she was tempted to claw them out with her own fingers, if that would make the pain go away.

She was conscious enough to know that it was Malfoy, of all the people in this school, who provided some initial relief to her pain. And that he carried her to the Infirmary, while Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall fluttered around him, probably worried that he'd drop her – accidentally or not. And now, lying on a bed in the Infirmary, feeling like death, she heard his angry whispers behind her privacy screen. He was arguing with Madam Pomfrey.

'I'm telling you, vomiting makes an almost instantaneous difference to the pain' –

'That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Inducing vomiting to alleviate migraine pain. How does that possibly work?'

'I don't know how it bloody works! It just does!'

'Mr Malfoy' –

'I've seen it work! More than once. Okay?'

Even though they were whispering, every word felt like a knife plunged into her head. She lurched up, with the intention of telling both of them to shut up or bugger off, but the sudden movement made her stomach lurch, and the unwelcome sensation of her mouth filling with bile indicated that she had a slightly more pressing problem to deal with. Clamping her hand to her mouth, she looked wildly around for a bowl or something to be sick in. Just a tiny kidney dish was within arm's reach.

Oh, Christ, Hermione thought.

Draco and Madam Pomfrey's spat was loudly interrupted by the most fearsome sounds and smells of the contents of a teenage girl's stomach making its way, with speed, up her gastrointestinal tract and bursting out of her mouth in a mad dash for freedom. Or in this case, all over Hermione's bed.

Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. Just because he'd been in this position with his mother, more than once, doesn't mean that he liked it.

Madam Pomfrey resumed control. 'You have been very helpful, Mr Malfoy, but now's the time for you to go.'

He didn't need convincing. 'I'll come back later.'

'If you must.'

Draco rolled his eyes at Madam Pomfrey's back (she was already heading into Hermione's cubicle making mothery, comforting sounds) and strode away to the entrance.

Jason the Ravenclaw Robards barrelled through the door, narrowly avoiding Draco. Too worried to care about baiting the bear, Jason ground to a halt and grabbed Draco's sleeve. 'How is she?' he gasped.

With a glare that could have put ice caps on the dunes of the Sahara, Draco once again removed Jason's hand from his person. 'Not that I'm a Healer, but I think she may have turned the corner,' he said in a dangerously low voice.

'Great! Thanks!' Jason made to go inside, but something appeared to be stopping him. Looking down, he saw that Malfoy's clenched fist was attached to his robes. If that wasn't concerning enough, the look of pure and absolute seething rage on Malfoy's face would have turned a weaker man's bowels to water.

Draco dragged the poor boy out into the corridor, which, unfortunately for Jason, was empty. Jason found himself shoved backwards into the wall so hard his glasses jumped off his face and clattered to the ground. Still, he could see the expression on Malfoy's face perfectly well.

Because it was right in his own.

'Wha-?' squeaked Jason.

Draco braced an arm across Jason's throat. 'I hear you're taking Granger to the Ball,' he spat.

'Uh… yeth…'

'Now, you listen to me, pretendy-Healer!' Draco snapped. 'You will take care of her as if she is the most delicate, most valuable possession you own. If anything untoward happens to her, including her going off half-cocked and doing stuff that is going to wear her out or make her sick again, I will find you, and you will spend the rest of your days drinking your dinner through a straw. Understand me?'

Jason gasped for air. 'Yeth, perfectly.'

Draco's cold eyes bored into his. Then he let the boy go. He took a step towards the stairs, but stopped, turned and pointed a threatening finger at Jason. 'Keep your hands where I can see them, and don't even _think_ about kissing her!'

Jason nodded frantically.

Draco nodded curtly in response, and strode away.

Jason slumped down to the floor. Then swore when he realised that he'd sat on his glasses.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks very much to you all for reading :) Thanks particularly for the reviews: sometimes they've come in really handy when I've run out of plot!**


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione decided it was safe to crank an eye open. She'd burrowed herself into the Infirmary bed's blankets – keeping light and sound at bay.

She felt like she'd been run over by a steamroller. Then someone scraped her back together – and ran over her again.

So basically, she felt a little better.

She snuffled her way out of the blankets. The face that met her wasn't Madam Pomfrey, or Jason's, nor even her Gryffindor friends – it was Malfoy, of all people, slouching elegantly on a chair and reading _The Daily Prophet_.

'You thirsty?' he asked quietly, without looking up from his paper.

'Yeah,' she croaked.

He put the paper down and poured her a glass from a carafe on the nearby cabinet. She reached out a shaking hand for it, but when the water threatened to leap out and spill all over the bed, Draco held on to it while she took some sips.

'Thanks,' she whispered.

'I warned you,' he said.

Hermione didn't take offence because he said it with something that sounded like sadness. Also, he was right. She ignored him, thinking she knew best, as always.

'You're right. I'm sorry I didn't listen.'

Well, that certainly surprised him.

'Is it your mother that gets migraines?' Hermione asked. 'You said you knew about them from personal experience.'

'Yeah. Usually Father helps her, but when I was nine, he was away on business, and I … found her.'

'Nine? Oh, my God.'

'Well, the house-elves helped, too.'

'Hmph.'

The less said about those, the better.

Draco moved his chair closer to the bed and gently rested a long finger on one of hers.

'I've been worried about you for a while,' he said in a low voice.

She couldn't deny that.

'If I'm worrying about you, it's fairly safe to say that I care about you.'

He waited for her rebuttal, but she just watched him with sleepy eyes.

'I still want us to be friends. I think we'd be good friends, Granger. Think of all the fun arguments we can have, eh? Like whether Shakespeare or Marlowe was the better playwright? Yes, I've read them both.'

Hermione looked at him. Properly. He'd changed. Why did he look different? His eyes weren't a pale, insipid, washed-out grey, they were a mesmeric silver. What happened to his bony beak of a nose and pointy chin? Did the rest of his face catch up with his bone structure?

Then she realised. He hadn't changed. She had.

She took a breath, let it out and said 'Hermione.'

Draco wrinkled his brow. 'Huh?'

'If we're to be friends, you should call me Hermione.'

Draco sat there, almost disbelieving. Then he slowly smiled (oh, dear God, his smile, thought Hermione dazedly) and held out his hand. 'Draco.'

She smiled and took it. 'Hermione.'

They shook hands.

Draco said 'You'll probably get a visit from' –

'Ah! Miss Granger. You're awake, I see. How are you feeling, dear?'

'Professor McGonagall,' Draco finished wryly.

The woman herself nodded to him regally.

Draco stood up and offered the Professor his chair. Even if he acted like a selfish prick most of the time, he still knew his manners. He smiled briefly at Hermione. 'I'm glad you're feeling better,' he said.

She returned the smile, colour appearing in her cheeks. 'Thanks, Mal-Draco.'

'And don't worry about anything. It's all in hand.'

And with that, he was gone.

'What does he mean by that?' Hermione frowned and turned to Professor McGonagall. 'Do you know?'

'I think I do,' the Professor replied tartly. 'It has come to my attention, Miss Granger, that the number of extra-curricular activities you have been undertaking far exceed what is considered the norm for a student with your academic workload.'

Hermione sagged. She knew it was a matter of time before McGonagall found out.

She endured a gentle ten-minute scolding from her mentor (the Professor was careful not to raise her voice). At the end of it, McGonagall announced that Hermione's activities were now restricted to her schoolwork, Prefect and Head Girl duties (although Blaise will be taking on more of the workload there) and her pre-Healer duties in the Infirmary. Everything else has been allocated to volunteers, and Professor McGonagall will not tolerate any arguments, attempts to negotiate or bending of the rules, is that understood?

Hermione was horrified! 'But – but - what about S.P.E.W?'

McGonagall consulted her notes and said 'Mr Robards will chair it, and consult with you on decisions. You're still allowed to be a part of it, my dear, but Mr Robards is under strict instructions to make sure you don't volunteer to do anything and everything.'

Hermione pouted. 'The Ball?'

'Mr Zabini and the Ball Committee have it in hand.'

'What about the First Year Potions tutoring? Please don't tell me Professor Snape' –

'Good Godric, no.' Professor McGonagall peered over her glasses, alarmed. 'We have a volunteer for that, too.'

'Oh. Who?'

The Professor gave her a cat-like smile. 'You'll see.'

* * *

Hermione couldn't help herself. At the appointed time for her regular Potions tutorial with the Traumatised First Years, she snuck down to the dungeons and quietly poked her head around the door of the Potions classroom.

Then she opened it up wide.

There was no-one there!

Fuming, she dithered in the doorway, trying to think.

'I sincerely hope you're not planning to stand there all day, Miss Granger,' came a bored, dark drawl from behind.

Eep.

Hermione whipped around. 'Not at all, sir. I was just wandering where the First Years I was tutoring had gotten to.'

Professor Snape frowned and peered down at her. 'Why?' he asked suspiciously.

Hermione locked her knees together to keep them from knocking. 'I just wanted to see how they were getting on with their new tutor, that's all.' Mostly. all

'Is this a permitted activity, Miss Granger? We do not wish to see a relapse of your condition.'

Goodness. Is Professor Snape telling me that he's worried about me? Hermione wondered. Or is he concerned that Professor McGonagall will cut him up into chips and deep-fry him in hot oil if he is somehow found responsible for me getting another migraine?

'It's definitely not on the list of prohibited activities, sir,' she hedged.

He sighed. 'Oh, very well. The tutor certainly won't let you take any work on, anyway. They're in the broomstick practice area.'

Broomstick practice area? What in Merlin's name is going on?

'Thanks, Professor,' Hermione said, and skedaddled.

* * *

It was the first time since her migraine that Hermione had ventured outdoors. A quick glance out of the windows along the corridors showed that it was a brilliant blue day, too. Oh, well. If it was too bright for her eyes, she'd go back inside. Eventually. As soon as she was satisfied that the tutor had everything in hand.

However - when she arrived at the flat, grassy area, it was pretty safe to say that she was _not_ satisfied at all.

'Pyrotechnics?' she yelled at the all-too-relaxed tutor, while her First Years looked on, agog. 'You're teaching First Year students pyrotechnics?'

'Yup,' Draco replied nonchalantly.

'Are you out of your ever-loving mind?'

Draco bestowed upon her a Look, then called upon a delightful little cherub called Monique Mason, a Hufflepuff with gigantic blue eyes and a waterfall of blonde hair. 'Mason, please describe to Miss Granger what you've learned in this lesson.'

'Yeth, Mr Malfoy!' Monique lisped. 'Mith Granger, we learned about the propertieth of potionth ingredienth that can ethplode, including their thafety protocolth and what to do if there'th an accident and that'th what we are doing now.'

'Very good, Mason,' said Draco. 'Shame about the lisp. Bet you can't wait until your front teeth grow in, eh?'

'Goth yeth, Mr Malfoy,' Monique said with feeling.

Draco pointed to another student, a stout Slytherin called Tobias Cummins. 'Cummins. Anything more to add?'

'Yes, sir!' Tobias said proudly. 'There are many applications for potions ingredients that contain pyrotechnics, especially in the Muggle world. The most obvious are fireworks, but also for blasting holes in rock, explosive bolts and fasteners, even safety matches.' He frowned. 'I think those are used to light stuff instead of using a wand. Which Muggles don't have,' he added helpfully.

Hermione stared open-mouthed at Draco, who was trying to hold back a smile.

'Very good, Cummins. And one more wizard function…?'

Cummins screwed up his face in thought. 'Um… exploding potion?'

'Excellent! Ten points each to Slytherin and Hufflepuff for thorough answers. Now, head back to your work area and continue on the second exercise I gave you.'

'Yes, Mr Malfoy!' the First Years shouted cheerily, and dashed off.

Draco stepped closer to Hermione. 'Applied Potions,' he said. 'I enjoyed trying stuff out for myself at their age – helped me retain knowledge, too. Of course, with such a large bunch of them, I didn't want to chance the state of Snape's classroom. So I took them out here, where they can make a mess and have fun.' He leaned even closer. 'Only trace amounts of pyrotechnics were used,' he whispered. 'The worst damage they could have done to themselves was break a fingernail.'

Hermione tried to look severe, but broke into a smile instead. 'I hardly recognise them from the traumatised bunch I adopted at the start of the year.' It was true. Her once-terrified little First Years were sprawled on the grass, busy concocting something in cauldrons and having the time of their lives, judging by the laughter and chatter.

Again, she looked at Draco with new eyes.

'What?' he said warily.

'I think you'd make an amazing Professor,' she said softly.

To his shame, Draco felt himself blushing.

'I'm serious,' Hermione urged. 'You should think about it.'

Draco looked down at his shoes, then cleared his throat. 'Thanks, Gra – Hermione.'

'You're welcome, Draco.'

Hmm. Draco was liking the sound of his name on her lips. He couldn't deny it. He longed to draw her into his body and kiss her until she ran out of breath, but there was a horde of eleven-year-old witnesses lolling about not too far away.

Kids. Bloody passion-killers.

Anyway. 'Want to stay for the next part of the lesson?' Draco asked. 'If you feel okay, that is?'

'Sure. What are you teaching them?'

'Well, I have to admit, this experiment doesn't have a lot of practical applications.'

'What are they making, then?'

'Watch.'

Hermione watched, open-mouthed, as a fluorescent yellow blob of something soared through the air and landed on Monique's robes. She shrieked, and promptly lobbed an iridescent pink splodge back in the original thrower's direction.

Draco grinned. 'Silly slime!'

* * *

At long last, the day of the Yule Ball arrived. Senior students spent hour upon hour in the Great Hall, setting it up in the style of a mystery theme.

Hermione was, to her disgust, exempted, mostly because she was under orders not to wear herself out otherwise McGonagall would ban her from attending the Ball. The other reason was that in her absence, the Ball Committee had 'tweaked' (i.e. completely changed) the theme from the one she knew about, and no-one had the guts to tell her.

Since Draco was famous for not caring who he pissed off or how, Blaise asked him to do the honours, but he snorted and said it would be better if Granger just saw it along with everyone else. She'd be less likely to throw the Mother Of All Hissy Fits if she was surrounded by hordes of other students.

'Besides,' he said airily. 'You never know. She might like it.'

The Committee was very dubious, but the motion To Keep Granger in the Dark was passed unanimously, all the same.

As the hour drew near, lots of freshly washed, dressed and pressed students fought for prime position over mirrors. Others practiced their suave moves on Common Room floors, and the usual tribe of trouble-makers checked that their stocks of Firewhisky were suitably concealed about their persons.

Hermione and Ginny were ensconced in Hermione's room, adding the finishing touches to their make-up and hair. Ginny looked beautiful in a floor-length, strapless gown with a sweet-heart neckline. The bust was comprised of two colours – light green and teal – and the skirt drifted with gathered chiffon panels in light green, teal, duck-egg's blue and dark blue. An asymmetrical dark-blue sash at the waist was augmented by a diamante snowflake brooch. Her hair was pinned up, and a simple dark blue choker adorned her slim throat. If mermaids could go to Balls, this is probably what they'd all fight over to wear.

Hermione looked in the mirror back at Ginny, where she was twirling uncertainly in the room, watching the floaty material swirl and settle. 'You look absolutely beautiful, hon.'

'Thanks.' But Ginny was worried. 'I hope Mum and Dad didn't have pay too much for it.'

'I know it's hard, but try not to think about money problems for tonight, otherwise you'll spoil your time. Besides,' Hermione grinned, 'Blaise and a certain 'other someone' are going to be knocked off their feet when they see you.'

Ginny blushed and giggled. 'Maybe, once they've stopped ogling you.'

Hermione turned back to the mirror and had another go with fixing a wreath of tiny dusky pink roses and baby's breath over the low bun she'd constructed from her hair. Like Ginny's dress, her gown was floor-length, but it was off-the-shoulder instead of strapless. The bodice was grey silk shot with dusky pink, which tied in a pleat down the back like a corset, and her skirt comprised of a dusky pink organza underskirt with a silvery-grey tulle overskirt on top. A simple narrow pink sash bound her tiny waist.

She loved the colours of the dress; the way they changed with every movement. But she felt a little nervous about tonight's event. She felt that she might be sending the wrong message to Jason. She liked him as a friend, but not romantically. Maybe she should have thought more when he asked her to the Ball.

Anyway. It was too late now.

'Ready?' Ginny asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'Ready.'

'Let's go get 'em.'

* * *

Blaise was sitting on the couch in the Common Room, having long run out of things to say to Robards, who looked about as comfortable as a cat about to swim the fifty-metre freestyle. When Blaise saw Hermione's door crack open, he leapt off the couch with the grace of a reincarnated Rudolf Nureyev and stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny left the room and descended first. Carefully holding her long skirts so she didn't trip and fall arse over tit down the stairs, she was concentrating too much on getting down safely that she didn't see Blaise's face until she neared the bottom.

He was stunned. His mouth practically clattered to the floor. Never in his wildest dreams (and he had some pretty vivid ones involving this young lady) had he imagined how beautiful she would look with the colours of the ocean swirling around her.

Having made it safely to the bottom of the stairs, Ginny looked up at him. 'You all right?'

Blaise blinked. 'Uh, um, sorry – what was the question?'

Ginny looked amused. 'Are you okay?'

Ah. Got it. Blaise took her hands and kissed them, one by one. 'You are breathtakingly beautiful, Ginny Weasley,' he said in a voice only she could hear.

She blushed to the roots of her hair, which annoyed her, because red cheeks and red hair do not match. She turned to the top of the stairs. 'Here's the real Belle of the Ball!' she announced.

Jason struggled up from the settee and made his way to where Zabini and Weasley stood.

Oh, sweet Merlin's marbles!

The vision that was slowly making her way down the stairs was sublime. He started sweating, and his glasses fogged up. Malfoy is going to burst a blood vessel when he sees her, he thought dolefully.

He pasted on a smile, and stepped forward to help Hermione down the last few steps. 'You look really lovely,' he stammered.

'Thank you,' she smiled, and surreptitiously wiped her hand on her skirt. Funny. Jason's never had sweaty palms before. Poor guy must be really nervous. She felt sorry for him.

'Hey guys,' she said, drifting into the kitchenette and unearthing their secret stash of Firewhisky, 'how about a shot of courage before we head down?'

Three vehement 'yeses' followed her.

* * *

Theo and Draco exited their bedrooms much at the same time, looking devilishly handsome in their dress robes. They dawdled in the Common Room for a while, not wanting to get caught up in the scrum of people heading to the Ball. When it thinned out a bit, Draco headed to the stairs, Theo behind him.

'Oh, Draco! I've got some information for you.'

Now? Draco thought, irritated. Still, he stopped and turned around. 'Yeah?'

Theo caught up and watched the last of the revellers disappear around the stairwell. Then he grabbed Draco's throat and shoved him up against the stairwell wall, leaning over with cold, angry eyes.

'What the fuck?' Draco wheezed, trying to pry Theo's fingers away.

'Shut up and listen to me for once in your fucking life!' Theo snarled. 'I have the information you want, and I'll give it to you when you promise me one simple thing.'

'Whazzat?' Draco gasped. Hell, Theo's strong.

'Lavender is my girlfriend. We're making it official tonight. I will not tolerate any bullshit from you about her, or our relationship. I expect you to make nice with her, and support us, particularly in light of other dickheads wanting to cause trouble. In short, I want you to be my friend, and support me and the girl I love. Do you promise?'

He loves her? Draco's oxygen-starved brain registered. Bloody hell.

'Yesh, yesh, all righ'!' Draco mouthed.

Theo stepped back and let him go.

Draco doubled over, breathing hard and massaging his throat. 'You know, you could have asked without the strangling part,' he commented.

'I like to see the whites of your eyes when getting something from you that you don't want to give.'

'Anyway, what's the information?' Draco asked. 'Please.'

Theo leaned in close to Draco's ear. 'The person who told Granger about the girls you slept with is The Weasel. The male of the species.'

With that, Theo turned and disappeared up the stairs, whistling a tune.

* * *

Draco leaned against the stairwell wall, waiting for the last of the spots in his eyesight to go.

So. The Weasel was the one responsible for turning Hermione off me! he seethed. He's going to pay a heavy, heavy price – right where it will hurt him the most.

Draco checked his cuffs and gloves. Time to find Parkinson and tell her that he's reconsidered her offer.

* * *

 **A/N: Here's nice spanner in the works before Dramione's even begun...**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Let the (Ball) games begin!**

Lavender checked herself in the bedroom mirror one last time.

Dress: perfect.

Hair: (with Parvati's help): braided on each side and combined into a low, loose plaited bun at the base of her neck, with soft curls around her ears. A mysterious bouquet of lilac-coloured roses was delivered by owl to her at lunchtime today (causing Ron to inhale, then choke on his banana), so she placed some of them in her hair.

Make-up: dramatic eyes and dark red lips.

She looked like a Muggle model, according to Parvati, who looked goddess-like herself in a sari of a textured, dark gold sleeveless underdress with a cerulean length of chiffon that draped over one shoulder, flowed over Parvati's hip on the diagonal and wrapped around to finish in a train behind her.

Lavender could be quite self-critical of her appearance at times. But even she had to agree that she looked pretty damn edible.

So, why was she shaking like a brittle little leaf?

Parvati rubbed her shoulders comfortingly. After she earlier subjected Lavender to the third degree regarding the origin of the roses, and let's not forget the dress, Lavender admitted that she had a new boyfriend.

From Slytherin.

Called Theo Nott.

Parvati took it quite well. 'At least it's not that sleazoid Malfoy,' was her eventual response (her night with Malfoy hadn't ended the way she thought it would).

Now she said 'Buck up, Lav! You'll knock Theo, and most likely every other bloke sideways when they see you. Ron will be so peeved at losing you he'll probably get trolleyed and start a fight and Madam Hooch with threaten to suspend him from the Quidditch Team and he'll come crawling to you on bended knee, begging you to take him back. In full view of everyone.'

Lavender stared at Parvati, aghast.

Parvati shrugged. 'You know Ron.'

'I hope he doesn't try to fight Theo,' Lavender fretted. 'I mean, I'm sure Theo can hold his own in a fight, but it would just be embarrassing! I don't want blokes fighting over me! And they wouldn't be fighting over me, anyway. It would just be a display of testosterone. Like gorillas beating their chests.'

Parvati didn't get it. 'I'd love for blokes to fight over me,' she said dreamily. 'Anyway, it's time to head down. Neville's probably champing at the bit to get on the dance floor already!'

Lavender gripped the doorframe in a panic. 'What will people say about us?' she asked desperately.

Parvati gave her a look. 'Does it matter? If people laugh or sneer at you and call you a skank because you've crossed the floor to be with a Slytherin, will you like Nott less for it?'

'Of course not,' Lavender said stoutly. 'Yeah, you're right. Fuck them.'

Parvati grinned. 'That's the spirit! How about I ask Neville to escort the pair of us down? Safety in numbers?'

Lavender smiled. 'Yes, please.'

* * *

Theo nervously paced the Great Hall's vestibule, he and everyone else present watched two beautiful young women descend the stairs from Gryffindor Tower on the arms of a very proud Neville Longbottom, who'd really shot up in all the right places in the past year or so, and who Parvati was already planning to divest of his virginity later tonight, if he behaved himself.

Patil looked stunning in her gold and blue sari, but Theo's eyes were only for the slim, graceful blonde in the beautiful lilac dress. With her hair pulled away from her throat and make-up that accented her beautiful eyes and lips, she looked ethereal. His heart pounded.

Some distance away, sneaking a drink from a hip flask he shared with Crabbe and Goyle, Draco noticed first Lavender, then Theo's reaction to her. He shook his head in disbelief. How did I miss that totty? he thought ruefully.

Lavender looked around the crowded vestibule, while trying not to look like she was looking around. When she found Theo, her face broke into a lovely, and relieved, smile. Kissing Neville on the cheek for his gallant duty, she slowly made her way her through the throng, nodding and smiling to admiring friends, until she stood before him.

Maybe it was her imagination, but the noise in vestibule seemed to drop.

Theo took her hand and brought it slowly to his lips to kiss it. Blushes spread across Lavender's cheeks, and she looked down.

'Lavender,' Theo whispered. 'You look exquisite. You have no idea how proud I am that you want to be with me.'

She looked up at his gorgeous face. 'Of course I want to be with you,' she whispered back, not caring anymore that they were now in the centre of a large circle of students with their mouths hanging open in disbelief.

Theo hadn't planned to make a dramatic scene as a way of announcing their relationship, but he later admitted that it kind of went to his head a bit. And before he considered the consequences, he gently held her face in his hands and slowly, softly, kissed her.

Now, as well as their mouths hanging open, the assembled audience's eyes were bugging out of their heads. A few gasps may have sounded. Some looked to the vestibule's ceiling, and didn't know what to think when the expected lightning bolts did not rain down and smite them.

Near the entrance to the Great Hall, Ron turned white, then red, clenched his fists and took a step towards them before he was stopped by Harry's wand, poking in his chest.

'Move along, for Merlin's sake,' snapped Professor Snape, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. 'Surely you've seen two people kiss before?'

The mood broken, people shrugged and chatted and amiably headed into the Great Hall. Theo, a little abashed, nodded his thanks to the dour Professor, who rolled his eyes and indicated his head in the Hall's direction.

 _Sotto voce,_ Snape said to Professor Flitwick, who was standing next to him: 'I don't doubt that they've seen much, much more. I've never had such a sex-mad bunch of seniors in Slytherin in all my years as Housemaster.'

Flitwick agreed, thinking of his own charges in Ravenclaw. He was fairly sure many of them spent more nights in Slytherin than they did in their own dorm.

'Thank Merlin for contraceptive charms, is all I can say.'

'Couldn't agree with you more, Severus.'

Snape wondered, using his best guess, how many children Draco Malfoy could potentially have sired if it wasn't for the contraceptive charms, and nearly had a heart attack. He would have gotten Draco's father to speak to him about his inability to keep it in his pants, if it wasn't for the fact that Lucius Malfoy was just as bad, if not worse, during his days at Hogwarts.

Like father, like son, he thought grimly.

* * *

Hermione, Jason, Blaise and Ginny arrived at the vestibule shortly after the scandal _du jour_ was put in its place by its unlikely saviour. Blaise and Ginny held their breaths and waited for Hermione to notice the transfigured entrance into the Great Hall.

Hermione eyed the lush red and black entrance, black-and-white chequered floor and the gaudy sign overhead that proclaimed 'WELCOME TO HOGWARTS' CASINO'.

'Casino?' she asked uncertainly.

She rounded on Blaise. 'Casino?' she screeched.

Dear Merlin, Malfoy's going to slaughter me! thought Jason frantically, watching Hermione's blood pressure soar.

Hermione's sharp eyes spotted a familiar blonde head as it bobbed towards the direction of the GReat Hall's entrance. Where chaos and destruction reign, a Malfoy always lurks, she thought grimly.

'MALFOY!'

* * *

For Merlin's sake, now what? groused Draco, and turned around.

And couldn't believe his eyes when the most beautiful young woman he'd ever seen descended upon him like a phenomenally pissed-off Valkyrie.

* * *

'I'm not even on the bloody Ball Committee, Granger!'

'And yet, why do I have this feeling that you have something to do with this - this – abomination?'

Draco, Hermione, Blaise, Ginny and Jason were standing outside in the courtyard. Blaise, Ginny and Jason watched Hermione and Draco trade verbal blows and wisely stayed out of Hermione's line of sight.

'Abomination?' Draco snarled. 'Have you even been inside the Hall yet?'

'To be fair, Granger, Malfoy wasn't one of the people who decided to change the theme,' Blaise said uncomfortably.

'Yeah, but he did suggest it,' added Ginny helpfully. Or not so helpfully, in Draco's case, as he threw a nasty glare her way.

Hermione clenched her jaw and seethed at Draco, but acknowledged that it really shouldn't be him that she should be venting her ire at. It was the Ball Committee. Starting with Blaise.

Hermione rounded on the Head Boy and subjected him to a blistering tirade, the theme of which was titled 'What was the Bloody Point of Changing the Ball Theme when the Original Ball Theme was Perfectly Bloody Acceptable?'

Blaise took it on the chin as well as he could, having been counselled in advance by Ginny to not interrupt if he planned on having children later on in life.

Jason, meanwhile, was sweating even more under Malfoy's basilisk stare. He was letting Hermione get worked up and was doing nothing to calm to her down. Even if it was technically Malfoy himself that got her worked up in the first place.

He swallowed, prayed to Merlin and stepped up to Hermione. 'Hermione,' he said bravely, 'perhaps it was remiss of the Committee to not inform you of the changes, but your health is very important to them. A lot of people were really worried about you.'

Hermione broke off her rant and looked at him.

'Also,' Jason continued, with only a mild squeak to his voice, 'most people won't know or mind that the theme's changed. If they're all having fun, perhaps we should show some solidarity now and save any recriminations for tomorrow.'

Hermione was rather impressed. Jason had a backbone, after all. She smiled at him. 'You're right,' she said. Turning to Blaise: 'I'm sorry, Blaise. At least for tonight.'

Blaise smiled weakly.

Turning back to Draco, she wasn't sure what to say. Weren't they supposed to be friends? If she went by the way he was looking at her, maybe their tenuous bond had already been severed.

She opened her mouth, but Draco got in first.

'You look absolutely beautiful, Hermione,' he said in a low voice. His hand extended of its own accord, wanting to gently touch her cheek, but he regained control of his faculties and forced his hand down before it got too far.

She smiled shakily. 'Thank you, Draco. And I'm sorry.'

He nodded, then looked at Jason. 'Your escort awaits.'

Was there a certain tone in his voice? she wondered. Jealousy?

Uncertainly, Hermione turned to Jason and put her hand on his arm. They followed Blaise and Ginny into the vestibule.

At the threshold, Hermione turned back. Draco stood, unmoving, in the courtyard, his hands in his pockets. He appeared to be looking at the night sky.

Sadness crept into her heart.

* * *

She supposed it wasn't _that_ bad.

At least there weren't banks of slot machines lined up as far as the eye could see. Around the circumference of the gargantuan room, green-felted tables sprouted all of the popular casino table games: Blackjack, Baccarat, Poker and all its variants, Craps, Snake Eyes, and, of course, Roulette. A terribly gaudy Money Wheel sat in a corner of its own, operated by an enthusiastic house-elf, who could have used his magic to spin the wheel around, but much preferred leaping onto it to give it enough momentum for the spin.

In fact, all of the games were operated by house elves, looking spiffy in tuxedos. Most had abandoned the top hats, however. They also kept an eye, ear or a nose out for cheating – using magic at the gaming tables was banned - and quickly dispensed justice to those who thought they could get away with fingering their wands beneath the table, so to speak. So far, Crabbe, who was rather slow on the uptake, had been zapped by house elves at nearly every table. His hair resembled Albert Einstein's.

Hermione stopped at the Roulette table, one of the most popular venues. 'What's everyone betting with?' she asked Blaise, who drew the short straw and was stuck with showing her around.

'Just tokens. No money changes hands. We wanted everyone to join in and have fun, not just watch us rich bastards play.'

Most of those rich bastards were in Slytherin, Hermione thought wryly.

The Roulette house elf, standing on the table, squeaked 'No more bets please!' and gave the roulette wheel an almighty push while setting the ball off in the opposite direction. He tried spinning with the wheel once, but promptly flew off. While it was lots of fun, the punters weren't amused when he crashed on top of their bets. Now he stood next to the wheel, hopping up and down excitedly until the ball came to rest.

'Thirteen black!' he squeaked.

'Ooh! That's me!' cried Professor McGonagall, smugly collecting her 'winnings' amid cheers (from the spectators) and groans (from the other punters).

Hermione laughed, and investigated the rest of the Hall.

A black and white chequered dance floor occupied the centre of the room, and a band was rocking it up on the stage. Large, circular tables with snowy white tablecloths surrounded the floor. The centrepieces comprised of an animated deck of cards, dancing intricately around beautiful displays of white flowers, each of which changed into the House colours of the person sitting nearest to them.

'Where does everyone sit?' she asked, looking for a seating plan.

'Anywhere they want. No Houses apply tonight.'

Hermione grinned. 'Oh, all right. Your telling-off tomorrow is cancelled.'

'Whew!' replied Blaise, only half-joking.

* * *

Theo and Lavender played a few games of Blackjack, then wandered over to the table where Harry, Ron, Parvati, Neville, Jason and Hermione sat, sipping sparkling elderflower juice (augmented with a touch of Firewhisky).

Harry and Ron went stag to the Ball. Pansy was all for keeping her relationship with Harry secret for the time being, and despite Ron's confident boasts, it appeared that enough girls had been put off by Lavender's speech not to risk their expensive dresses on him.

'Hi guys,' said Lavender, sitting down in a chair Theo had pulled out for her. 'You all know Theo?'

'Of course,' said Hermione, registering their joined hands and loving looks into each other's eyes. 'You two look really lovely together,' she smiled. The others around the table agreed, apart from Ron, who looked apoplectic with rage, and Harry, who had nothing against Lavender and Theo personally, he was just preoccupied with running interference for Ron – who'd taken to the bottle after he witnessed 'that revolting spectacle' in the vestibule.

Sure enough, off he went.

'Ish a bloody disgrace!' he snarled, glowering at the happy couple.

'What is?' asked Jason, who didn't hang around Weasley and therefore didn't know that it was a bad idea to encourage him.

'There should be no intermig – intermin – intermuggle – mixing of the Houses!' Ron thundered.

'But I'm from Ravenclaw and Hermione's from Gryffindor,' protested Jason. 'What's wrong with that?'

'Not you,' Ron said slowly, as if to a child; 'them.' He glared at Theo, who watched him impassively and rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Lavender's fingers. 'Shlytherins!' Ron spat. 'Should never mix outside their House.'

'Put a cork in it, Ron,' Hermione said wearily.

But Ron did not take this sage advice. He leapt up, overturning his chair, and pointed his finger at Theo's chest. 'He shtole her from me!'

Harry leapt up, too. 'Sit down, Ron, for the love of Godric!' he begged.

Lavender was indignant. 'I'm not a bloody object, Ron!' she said hotly. 'I make my own decisions, and I decided to break up with you. If you don't remember that, the rest of the school does.'

'You didn't let much moss grow under that stone, didya?' he spat, looking at her with narrow eyes. 'Who's to shay you didn't give Nott a free shample of your goods before you broke up with me?'

Lavender gasped, and her skin turned white, then red. She had no words to fling back at him. Mostly because he'd guessed right. She burned with humiliation while Hermione, Parvati, Harry and Neville buried their heads in their hands.

Theo calmly stood up. 'I don't want to fight you, Weasley,' he said quietly. 'But I'm not going tolerate you bad-mouthing my girlfriend out of spite. I strongly suggest you apologise to Lavender for insulting her, or… face the consequences.'

'Ron!' Harry begged.

But it was too late. 'Apologishe?' Ron roared. He whipped out his wand, pointed it at Theo and shouted _'Diffindo!'_

Lavender screamed and flinched as Theo quickly raised a shield. The spell bounced off it and sliced through the centrepiece arrangement at the next table, much to the occupants' shock.

Before anyone else at the table could raise their wands, a commanding voice snapped _'Expelliarmus!'_ and Ron's wand sailed through the air into the waiting hand of Madam Hooch.

Marching up the group, she fixed them with a cold stare, and said 'Anyone care to tell me what's going on?'

Everyone looked down at the table.

Eventually Hermione sighed and said 'There was an argument. It just got a little out of hand.'

'Mr Weasley, is this your wand?'

Now the pairs of eyes looked in Ron's direction.

'Yeah, all right! It's mine!' Ron snapped. Glaring around the table, he said 'There! Are you happy, traitors?'

Hooch ground her teeth. Turning to Ron, she growled 'The _Diffindo_ charm is capable of causing severe damage, Mr Weasley! You are much too reckless by half! I've a good mind to suspend you from the Quidditch team as your punishment. Salazar knows nothing else seems to get through to you.'

The Gryffindors gasped. 'Please don't, Madam!' begged Harry. 'We'll make sure he behaves! We'll beat it into him if necessary!'

'Hey!' protested Ron.

'Shut up!'

'Ron,' pleaded Hermione, 'for the love of Merlin, apologise to Lavender and Theo so we can all move on from this incident.'

'Apologise?' said Ron, reluctantly.

'Like you really, really, mean it,' she ordered.

Faced with being stuck between a rock and a hard place, Ron conceded that a grovelly apology to Lavender and that snake Nott was slightly less repulsive than being kicked off the Quidditch team. He cleared his throat, opened his eyes wide, and said 'Lavender, I'm sorry that I implied that you were a slag. I only said it because you look so beautiful and I miss you. You're not a slag. You're a lovely girl, really. And Nott, I'm sorry I drew my wand on you. I was jealous that you're now with a girl that I never truly appreciated until it was too late.' He looked down at the table and mumbled 'That's all I can think of right now.'

Lavender and Theo looked at each other. 'Apology accepted,' said Lavender softly.

Looking like he'd rather not, Nott nevertheless leaned across the table and offered his hand. Ron shook it limply, still staring at the table.

Madam Hooch looked at them, and said 'Fine. But Mr Weasley, you are on very thin ice. One more outburst of violence and you will not be suspended, you will be thrown off the team for good. Mark my words.' She handed Ron's wand back to him and stalked off.

Lavender leaned over to Parvati and whispered 'Girl, your divination skills are astounding!'

Parvati preened, while walking her fingers up Neville's thigh under the table. He suddenly discovered that his collar was too tight.

'Let's hope he doesn't declare his undying love.'

Lavender shuddered. 'I don't think I could stomach that.'

* * *

 **A/N: more Ball antics to follow**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Back to the Ball...**

 **Warning: talk of Drinny**

* * *

In a dark corner, Blaise and Draco huddled, poring over a parchment Blaise had gripped in his hands.

'Are you absolutely certain?' Blaise asked. 'Don't you need to check with your father, at least?'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'It's from my own vault.'

'But this is a shit-ton of money, Malfoy' –

'Do. Not. Worry.'

Blaise peered suspiciously at him. 'You can tell me to fuck off and mind my own business, but why are you doing this?'

Draco straightened up and looked out over the activities taking place in the Great Hall: people playing, dancing, eating, drinking, laughing; house-elves getting carried away. His silver gaze locked on a beautiful girl in a lovely grey-pink gown, dancing with Neville and laughing.

Her whole face transformed when she laughed. Gods. He thought she was beautiful before.

'I just feel like giving something back,' he murmured.

'You sure you want to remain anonymous?'

'Yes.'

Blaise shrugged. 'All right, then.'

Having run the gauntlet at the so-called 'Gryffindor table,' Lavender and Theo thought they should be polite and sit at the 'Slytherin' table.

At least Ginny's here, thought Lavender shakily, as she slid into a chair in the snake's den.

'Everyone.' Theo let his cool gaze wash over the table. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Zabini and Ginny looked up. 'This is my girlfriend Lavender,' he said.

Lavender felt five pairs of speculative eyes (not Ginny's) give her a thorough going-over.

'Hiya, Brown,' said Blaise. Given that he'd thrown his lot in with Ginny, he was already open to relationships with the opposition, as it were.

'Brown.' Draco nodded at her neutrally.

Crabbe and Goyle mumbled something unintelligible.

Pansy leaned forward. 'I must say, Brown, that is an adorable gown. Such a pity I can't wear pastels; or I would have ripped it off you in a second.'

Lavender assumed she was stating a fact, rather than being scarily bitchy. Pansy was a woman who lived to kill in bold colours. The dress she wore now was white, and snaked over every luscious curve. It had diamond cut-outs each side of her waist. The thin straps crossed over at the back, leaving the rest of her back completely bare, all the way down to the top of her perky derriere.

Harry had been holding himself back all evening from ripping it off her.

'Thanks, Parkinson,' Lavender said bravely. 'Your dress is, er, so sexy. Who's your partner?' She assumed it was Malfoy.

Pansy laughed. 'No-one, darling. All of us here, except Zabini and Nott, of course, came stag. So much more fun trying to wrestle the partners off other people, isn't it boys?'

Draco smirked, and Crabbe and Goyle shrugged. Those two hadn't been having much luck, truth be told.

Pansy noticed Lavender's round eyes. 'Don't worry, Brown. Nott's not on my list of people to debauch tonight.'

Theo smiled at her lazily.

Blaise stood up. 'May I have this dance, Miss Brown? he asked.

'Sure,' she replied, with a nervous glance at Theo. Blaise took her hand, and they disappeared onto the dance floor.

Draco passed his hip flask to Theo, who took a drink.

'You're a hell of a lucky bastard, Nott,' Draco said.

'Yeah, I think so,' Theo replied.

Draco lowered his voice and angled his blonde head closer to Theo's. 'Did you know you told me that you love her?'

Shit, thought Theo.

'No, I wasn't aware,' he said shortly. He searched Draco's eyes, looking for malice, pity or condemnation, but surprisingly, found nothing.

'Well, if she's the one, don't you think you owe it to her to be honest?' asked Draco.

'About…' Theo prompted.

'About why you sought her out in the first place, for one. Your bisexuality, for two.'

Fucking Malfoy, thought Theo angrily. He's never happy unless he's pissed on someone's leg. 'And I suppose if I don't tell her, you will?' he snapped, still keeping his voice low.

'No,' replied Draco. 'I know things haven't been great between us lately, but I'm still your friend. So I'm telling you this as a friend. If you're serious about Brown, you should start with a clean slate. Even though not telling her technically isn't lying, if she finds out later, she'll be hurt that you kept things from her.'

The bastard's right, thought Theo morosely.

* * *

'Parkinson,' quavered Ginny.

'Yes, dear?'

'I'm after some advice.' Ginny lowered her voice. 'About men.'

Pansy collected the hip flask from Theo and took a healthy sip. 'Men in general, or men in particular?'

'Well…' Ginny hedged; 'Blaise, I guess.'

That wanker, thought Pansy. She patted the empty chair next to her, inviting Ginny to come closer. 'What sort of advice are you looking for?'

'It's embarrassing,' Ginny sighed. 'He doesn't want to sleep with me.'

Bulls-eye, Pansy cackled to herself. She leaned closer to Ginny. 'Now, tell me dear, would you happen to be a virgin, by any chance?'

Ginny's cheeks flamed. 'Yeah,' she muttered.

'Ah, I think I see what the issue might be.' Pansy's red lips formed a smile. 'You see, darling, Blaise is massive.'

Ginny looked nonplussed. 'He's not so much bigger than most of the other boys – _oh,_ I get it!'

'Yes,' drawled Pansy. 'His manhood would look much more proportionate hanging between the legs of a stallion. For someone of my experience' – she patted herself modestly, 'it's all in a day's work. But he's had some rather traumatising times bedding virgins with his gigantic cock. I imagine that's why he's not too keen on bedding you.'

'Oh.' Ginny's shoulders slumped. 'Well, what can I do?'

'I'm glad you asked me.' Pansy leaned even closer. Ginny could smell the Firewhiskey on her breath. 'You need to practice with someone with yards and yards of experience. He'll get you up to the standard required. Then you can surprise Blaise with your newfound knowledge and ability, and before you know it, he'll be fucking you into the mattress of his bed until you practically combust from orgasms.'

Ginny was incredulous. 'You want me to cheat on Blaise?'

'Oh, darling.' Pansy waved a dismissive hand. 'Slytherins function in a different way to Gryffindors. We keep our problems to ourselves, and only accept help from within our circle. This isn't cheating, dear. It's helping. Blaise will be overjoyed at your initiative. You see, he really does like you. It must be killing him, holding himself back from making love to you.'

'Oh.' Put that way, thought Ginny, it didn't seem quite so... immoral. 'Who do you recommend as a … tutor?'

Pansy smiled. 'Look to your right.'

She did, then dry heaved. 'Malfoy?' she hissed. 'Are you insane?'

'My dear, he's the most experienced lover in this school. The Don Juan of Hogwarts. If there's anything he doesn't know about sex, it's not worth knowing.'

'But – oh, gods, it's Malfoy!'

'Well, that's all right. If you're happy waiting for Blaise to wear himself down and try not to rip you in two the first time he' –

'Okay, okay!' Ginny said hastily. 'Malfoy it is. What happens now?'

'I'll talk to him,' Pansy promised. 'He'll contact you.'

'What if he doesn't want a bar of me?' Ginny asked hopefully.

Pansy rolled her eyes. 'You're young, beautiful, and athletic. He won't have any problem desiring you.'

'Really?' stammered Ginny.

Pansy leaned in again, her lips close to Ginny's ear. _'I_ wouldn't have any problem desiring you,' she grinned.

Ginny sat bolt upright in her chair, much to Pansy's amusement.

'Don't worry about a thing,' Pansy smiled. 'It's all in hand.'

Ginny nodded shakily.

* * *

Blaise stepped onto the stage and placed his wand to his throat. 'Can I have everyone's attention, please?' he called.

Hundreds of eyes turned in his direction.

'On behalf of the Ball Committee, I'd like to say thanks to everyone for coming to our casino-themed Yule Ball. Hope you're all having a good time!'

He was practically deafened by the chorus of yesses that assaulted him.

Ears ringing, Blaise continued: 'I've got a couple of surprises for you all. I hope everyone's still got their 'winnings' with them? If you take a look at them now, you might find they seem a little… different.'

People pulled tokens out of pockets, handbags, décolletages and other nesting places.

'Feck me sideways, they're gold-covered chocolate!' crowed Seamus, who made a killing on one of the poker tables. Sure enough, everyone's gold tokens had been transfigured into chocolate galleons.

'Don't eat them all at once!' warned Blaise over the excited exclamations. 'Seriously.'

Once the hubbub died down, Blaise took a deep breath. He glanced at the table where Draco sat, wondering if a last-second change in instructions would be forthcoming, but Draco calmly met his eyes, unwrapped a chocolate Galleon and popped it into his mouth.

Smug prat, Blaise thought fondly.

'All casinos need to start with a large sum of money, which the punters try and win. A casino that runs out of money before the night is done is not a casino that lasts for very long. So, despite the enormous piles of chocolate you've all won, the House (that's the casino) still has a pile of gold tokens left over.

'I'm telling you all this because the House tokens aren't tokens, either.'

Ears pricked up.

'They're actually Galleons. Real ones, not chocolate. From an anonymous benefactor.' Blaise might have ground the last two words out, slightly.

Murmuring erupted around the Hall.

'You see, we were supposed to use the Ball to do some fundraising, to help a cause that's very dear to the Head Girl's heart.'

He nodded apologetically at Hermione, who gave him a close-lipped smile and curled her hands into fists.

All the house-elves turned pale and gulped.

'So the benefactor decided, in keeping with the Ball's casino theme, that they would donate the remainder of the casino's money to this cause.'

Louder murmurs erupted around the Hall.

'Granger, could you step up here, please?'

Her face burning, Hermione plastered on a smile and weaved her way through the tables and stepped onto the stage, heading towards Blaise, who looked kind of ill.

He pulled her to one side. 'Granger,' he whispered, 'I'm sorry we didn't tell you of this change in plan, along with the other change in plan, but please trust me when I tell you that your cause will benefit.' He handed her the piece of parchment.

She read it.

And read it again.

She glared at Blaise. 'Quit taking the piss and tell me the real amount.'

He sighed. 'It _is_ the real amount.'

Wide-eyed, Hermione read the amount again.

'Oh, my mother-fucking God,' she breathed, then blushed. Head Girls really shouldn't swear like a sailor.

'I can't accept this,' she said desperately. 'It's way too much.'

'Yeah, I know,' Blaise said, noticing that the natives, waiting for him to continue, were getting restless. 'The benefactor won't take any money back. I've begged, I've pleaded, I've done everything.'

'Who is it?' she asked.

'They want to remain anonymous.'

'Weirdo.'

Blaise smiled. 'I have an idea, if you're interested?'

She smiled back. 'Of course.'

* * *

'All right, thanks everyone, and apologies for keeping you waiting,' announced Blaise. 'Crabbe, the gambling is over, leave that poor elf alone. So, instead of the money going to one cause, we'd like to distribute the money among three. Take it away, Granger.'

'In no order of importance,' said Hermione, 'they are:

'The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare' –

This was met by polite clapping from the humans and sighs from the house-elves.

…'next, to purchase extremely rare and valuable texts for the school' –

Impressed gasps sounded, particularly from the Professors.

…'and finally, to replace all school brooms with the latest Nimbus brand of racing broomstick.'

The Hall erupted into cheers.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Any remaining money will be given to Professor Dumbledore for him to do with as he sees fit.'

Not many people heard that last part, since they were still yahooing about the brooms, but Professor Dumbledore, sitting in front of a veritable hillock of chocolate Galleons, twinkled his eyes at her.

'ONE LAST THING!' Hermione shouted, giving Blaise a fright. 'Sorry,' she whispered. When the clamour died down, Hermione continued. 'I really want to thank the benefactor who's allowed all of this to happen. It's the most generous donation I've ever seen. So, once again, whoever you are, you have my heartfelt thanks and gratitude.'

She started clapping, and the rest of the Hall joined in.

Draco hid his smile behind a glass of whiskey-spiked juice. Trust Hermione to spend the money on books and broomsticks, he thought.

Blaise stepped up. 'I suppose you want to know how much money it was, then?' he asked.

'YES!' replied the crowd.

Blaise took a deep breath. 'It's' –

* * *

The Great Hall's roof was practically blasted off its foundations by the crazed cheers of the Ball-goers.

Pansy and Draco drifted on the dance floor to a slow song, easy in each other's arms.

Pansy put her lips to Draco's ears, just like she did with Ginny. 'Thank you for advising me of your change in plans earlier,' she breathed, loving the way his chest felt against her breasts through her thin gown. 'I've spoken to Weaselette, and she's all ready for you.'

'Really?' Draco's lips curved in a smile. His hand drifted down her bare back. She shivered with delight. 'What's the story?'

'You're going to tutor her in sex so she can be prepared to accept Zabini's massive schlong.'

Draco burst out laughing. People turned around in surprise. A genuinely laughing Malfoy is a rare sight, indeed.

'Oh, Pansy,' he sighed, wiping a tear of laughter away, 'remind me never to cross you.'

She kissed his cheek. 'See that you don't.'

 **A/N: The night is yet to end… and please try not to overreact to the Drinny. It's essential to the plot.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello...I try to respond to all logged-in reviewers, but I can't do that with the guests. But quite a few have commented about not liking Draco x Ginny. Unfortunately, it's a key plot thing, so it has to go ahead otherwise there's no story.**

 **As for the Dramione, it germinates in this very chapter. I tend to build stuff up over a while, but when Draco and Hermione do get together, it'll rock your socks off! I hope.**

 **Thanks again for your patience and understanding.**

 **Warning: Theo/Lavender lemon, Neville/Parvati lemon and Drinny lemony language.**

* * *

 **Getting to the end of the Ball**

The Ball was now in its low-light stage, where most of the songs were slow, giving couples the opportunity to suck each other's faces off. Theo and Lavender, having bypassed the pubescent face-sucking stage of their relationship, moved contentedly around the dance floor, lost in their own world. Lavender's head rested against Theo's chest. She loved listening to his heartbeat.

She felt Theo stiffen. And not in a sexy way. 'Oh hell,' he muttered. 'Look out.'

Lavender turned around and watched with horror as Ron staggered onto the dance floor towards them. His robe was missing, along with his jacket, and his shirt was only half tucked in. His hair looked like it had been personally styled by Messrs Tornado and Gale, stylists to the decimated wastes of cyclone-ravaged regions. She could smell his whiskey breath from a mile off.

Parvati gets a perfect score for Divination, thought Lavender, a little hysterically.

'Lav,' Ron bleated blearily, not even noticing her tall, dark and annoyed boyfriend standing right behind her with an arm curved protectively around her waist. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. The crap kissing, the knicker-nicking, whatever it was I said earlier, which I can't quite recall. All of it. You're the only woman for me, Lav. Please take me back. I'll change, I swear.'

Lavender set her teeth, embarrassed beyond measure at his cringe-worthy performance. 'For the last time, Ron, no!'

Ron's face crumpled. 'But – I need you!' he wailed. Then he sank to his knees. 'Please, Lav, I'm begging ya!'

Lavender buried her face in her hands, until she heard a pained yelp. Looking through her fingers, she watched a grim-faced Professor Snape drag Ron by his ear off the dance floor and all the way to the Hall entrance. Then he grabbed Ron by his collar and belt and tossed him out of the Hall.

'Well,' said Theo, once he'd recovered his speech. 'I think we should call it a night before something even weirder happens.'

'Good idea,' agreed Lavender.

* * *

Draco had watched Hermione long enough. The Ball was nearing its end, and he'd denied himself for too long. He stood up from his table, accidentally jostling it and causing Crabbe and Goyle, who were propped up against each other in a chocolate and Firewhiskey-induced coma, to snort briefly awake.

He approached Hermione's table, feeling a little nervous. The thought of her turning him down, in public, and in front of her Gryffindork friends, was enough to make him grind his perfectly-aligned teeth.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt nervous with a girl.

It simply would not do.

He made it to the table and cleared his throat. Hermione, Robards, Potter, Patil and Longbottom looked up. As if on cue, a slow tune began to play. 'Miss Granger,' he said formally, 'may I have this dance?'

Under the closed-lip scrutiny of her friends, she accepted his hand with pink cheeks.

Much as he would have liked to have pulled her body flush against his and clamped her hands on her spectacular arse, he held her at a close but respectable distance, with one hand on her waist, the older holding her outstretched hand.

They danced in silence for a little bit.

'Are you okay?' they both asked. Then they both laughed a little.

'You first,' Draco said.

'I meant from before, when I yelled at you,' Hermione admitted. 'I have a bit of a temper.'

'Hermione,' Draco grinned, 'with all due respect, that's like saying Stonehenge is a rather pretty rock formation. Your temper is a part of you. I couldn't like you if I hated it.'

She blushed. 'It's just… before I went back into the vestibule, you looked… bereft, for some reason.'

He remembered. A muscle moved in his jaw. 'Just taking in the stars,' he said lightly. 'How about you? How are you feeling?'

'Are you going to stop asking me that anytime soon?'

'Sure. When you've convinced me that your spine is okay and you've stopped getting headaches.'

She smiled sardonically. 'You'd make a wonderful mother one day.'

He smirked. 'Not changing the subject, I hope?'

'No, Doctor Malfoy, I'm not. Madam Pomfrey had someone from St Mungo's come in and treat me, and everything is hunky dory.'

'Aside from the fact that I don't know what a hunky dory is, I'm satisfied.'

They danced in companionable silence.

'I'd love to know who the mystery benefactor is,' she said conversationally.

Interesting subject change. 'Why's that?'

'So I can write them a thank-you note.'

Draco laughed. 'Really?'

'No,' she grinned. 'I just love a mystery. I'll solve it, one day. You'll see.'

'I don't doubt that you will.'

Although I'd rather you didn't, he thought.

All too soon, the song came to an end. They stood still on the dance floor, not too sure what to do next. Then he saw Hermione supress a yawn.

He drew her towards him, and gently kissed her forehead. Then he escorted her safely back to the Gryffindor table, under Robards' supervision once more.

* * *

 **After the Ball**

Jason slowed as he and Hermione approached the crabby old lady portrait. She looked none too pleased at having to wait up late for her charges.

He turned and faced Hermione. 'So…'

She smiled, a little nervously. 'So… I had a lovely time tonight. Thanks for taking me.'

Jason nodded, and swallowed. How could he tell Hermione that while he thought she was the moon and the stars, a psychopath in Slytherin has warned him to stay the hell away from what Jason assumed was soon to be said psychopath's property?

But as it turned out, Hermione had the answer. Of course.

'Jason,' she said slowly, taking one of his hands. 'I like you enormously, and I really enjoy working with you in the Infirmary. But' – she bit her lip – 'I can't be anything more. With you. I hope you understand.'

Jason schooled his features into what he hoped was relieved disappointment. 'I definitely understand. I feel the same way,' he lied.

'Oh, good!' Hermione was genuinely relieved, at least. 'Well, in that case, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon in the Infirmary!' She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek.

He blushed to the roots of his hair. 'Yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow.'

He waited until she was safely inside the dorm before turning and making his way to Ravenclaw Tower. A heavy lump of something lay in his chest.

Maybe he was lucky and it was an ulcer. Not a broken heart.

* * *

Theo took Lavender back to his room, not caring if anyone saw them. Once they were alone, Theo removed the pins from Lavender's hair, one by one, letting each and every curl fall around her shoulders. They removed their beautiful clothes, and climbed into bed.

Theo kissed her, and for the time, made love to his girlfriend.

* * *

There was nothing for it. Theo would never get any sleep otherwise. He had to tell Lavender the truth.

Well. At least one truth.

He couldn't believe this advice came from Draco, who wouldn't know what the truth was if it danced naked on top of his Transfiguration desk. He huffed a sigh.

'What's wrong?' Lavender whispered.

He gulped. Here goes. 'I have to tell you something,' he said nervously.

'Oh.' She turned over and looked at him with her beautiful eyes. 'Can I guess?'

'Ah – sure?' he said, nonplussed.

'Are you married?'

'No!'

'Engaged or otherwise promised to another girl?'

'No.'

'Do you only have thirty minutes left to live?'

He chuckled. 'No, I think I'm good.'

'Well, those are my worst fears about you. I think I can cope with anything else you have to say.'

He smiled, despite his nervousness. She certainly had a different life view from him. He took one of her hands. 'It's kind of hard for me to say,' he started.

She leaned over and softly kissed him. 'It'll be okay.'

Here goes, he thought. 'I probably should have told you this before, but… I'm bisexual.'

Her eyes opened wider.

After a silence, Theo nervously asked 'Is that okay?'

Lavender blinked, then focussed on him. 'Can I ask you some questions? Well. Some more questions?'

'Of course.'

'When did you… know?'

Theo looked at his bed canopy, thinking. 'When I was about thirteen. For guys, pretty much our whole existence is centred around sex. When my friends and I were speculating which girls we'd want to shag and why, I found myself thinking about guys as well as girls.'

She nestled closer to him, laying her head on his bare shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, loving the way she felt.

'Um… obviously you've slept with girls, so… have you slept with any guys?'

'Yes,' he whispered.

'Is it quite different?'

'Yeah, in a way. Same but different. Obviously there are different erogenous zones. And body parts.'

'Do you prefer guys over girls?' she asked in a small voice.

'Hey.' He raised himself up on his elbow and looked straight at her. 'That's not what I'm like. Maybe Malfoy can fuck his way through a hundred women without even bothering to ask for their names, but if I have sex with someone, it's because I like them. It's not just sexual attraction. It's a range of things.'

She smiled a little. 'Sorry.'

He kissed her gently. 'No need.' Then he peered at her. 'Your cheeks have gone pink.'

Her glance slid sideways. 'I have a… um… technical question.'

He grinned. 'I think I can guess.'

'What's anal sex really like?'

He moved over her, bracing himself on his forearms. He brought his head down so that their lips were just millimetres away. 'When done right,' he qualified, 'it's the most intense fucking feeling in the whole world. Like ordinary sex to the power of ten.'

Lavender's lips quivered. 'For girls as well as guys?'

'For girls as well as guys,' he confirmed before closing his lips over hers.

* * *

'Theo?' she asked a little later.

'Uh-huh?'

'I'm totally fine with you being bisexual.'

'You're sure?'

Instead of answering, Lavender took Theo's fingers and placed them between her legs.

'Merlin's nutsack, girl! You're soaking…'

She nodded, moaning low in her throat when two of his fingers slid easily inside her. 'Yeah. Very sure.' She wriggled her hips, wanting more. 'I want you …'

Music to his ears. In one move, his stone-hard cock slid into her, and he closed his eyes in bliss at the feel of her body surrounding him.

* * *

Ginny let herself out of the Head Dorm and headed back to Gryffindor by herself. Blaise offered to walk her back, but she knew he'd had a long day and he looked practically dead on his feet. Besides, she needed to clear her head. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd gotten herself in to, but she was fairly sure she didn't want to be in it.

She made a lovely but solitary figure in her beautiful gown, ghosting along the corridors in the moonlight. She was deep in thought. So when a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her into an alcove behind a tapestry, she freaked the hell out.

Her scream was cut short by a pair of lips sealing over hers in a short but intense kiss. He released her before she could kick him in the nuts (a little difficult with the dress, but still worth a try) and cast a _Lumos._

All the air escaped her lungs. It was bloody Malfoy.

His smirk was solid. 'I hear you're in need of some tutoring,' he drawled.

'Actually, I've just changed my mind. Thanks for changing it for me.' Ginny picked up her skirts, ready to sashay past.

'A pity,' Draco replied. 'I'd hoped to prevent another Matilda Vane from happening, but if you think you can do better than her, I say 'good luck,' my dear.'

Matilda Vane? Ginny knew it was a trap, but what the hell. 'Are you talking about the girl who left school all of a sudden last year with no explanation?'

'The very same.'

'But you know the explanation.'

He nodded. 'Yup.'

With the help of Malfoy's _Lumos,_ Ginny could see that he'd removed his outer robe and his formal tie. A couple of his shirt buttons were undone. His hair was deliciously rumpled. He looked like he was getting ready for bed… hmmm…

Oh, for Merlin's sake, get a hold of yourself! she thought crossly. It wasn't _that_ good a kiss.

She crossed her arms. 'Will you please enlighten me about Matilda Vane?' she asked with saccharine sweetness.

'My pleasure.' Draco took a step towards her.

She took a step back to the wall.

'Vane was Zabini's girlfriend,' he whispered. 'A virgin, not too dissimilar in size to you, really.' Draco ran the light of his wand slowly over her body.

She slapped his hand. 'Get on with it.'

'As you wish.' His silver eyes locked on hers. In his low, sexy voice, he continued.

'She was desperate to sleep with him. Even I can see why, he's a pretty sexy bloke. She surprised him one evening in the Room of Requirement. She wore a sheer black strapless babydoll with lace over her breasts and a naughty little red ribbon underneath, just begging to pulled loose.' He smiled. 'With one's teeth.'

Ginny gulped for air. There's not enough air in this hidey-hole.

'Teamed with a matching thong, I believe,' he continued. 'Anyway, Zabini tried his utmost to resist her, but he always was a sucker for petite girls with long hair.' Draco reached out and gently touched Ginny's up-do, now with red tendrils escaping here and there.

She could smell his cologne. Whoa, momma!

'So, despite his reservations, he stripped. And felt like shit, of course, when she saw his erection and gasped. And not in a good way.'

Ginny nodded. Malfoy's an amazing storyteller, she'll give him that.

'She tried to take him in her mouth,' Draco continued, not at all embarrassed. 'But she couldn't fit much of him in. 'Y'see, my dear, he needs a special technique in order to slide even a few inches into your mouth… and your throat.'

She closed her eyes. She could see it. Hell, she could almost _feel_ it. Her knickers were drenched to the point of worthlessness.

When Ginny's eyes fluttered shut, Draco allowed himself a small, gloating smirk and a surreptitious adjustment to his own erection.

'Zabini knew she was nervous, so he tried his best to relax her, to arouse her. He applied his tongue to the centre of her body, feasting on the juices slicked over her folds and clitoris. He slid one large finger slowly into her cunt – oh, excuse me, do you mind if I say 'cunt'?'

Ginny let out a breath. 'No,' she whispered. 'Please continue.'

'He had an idea that he was in trouble, because she had the tightest cunt he'd ever seen. But he persevered, stroking his finger in and out while he licked and sucked at her arousal, sliding another finger in, with difficulty. He was elated when she came for him. Hard over his fingers. She made a lovely mess, apparently. And Zabini licked up every drop.'

'Oh, gods,' Ginny breathed. Her chest was rising and falling erratically.

Draco paused, watching her. After talking to Hermione about his first time with Theo, he decided he liked the challenge of making a girl come without even touching her. It sent his ego soaring. A little stiffness in the downstairs department was well worth it.

Draco lowered his voice even further and stepped closer to Ginny. His breath sent the loose tendrils of her hair into movement. 'She begged him to fuck her, love. _Begged._ Even though he was as hard as stone, he was wary. But in the end, the sight of her luscious little body, spread out on the bed for him, was too much. He slicked his cock with lubricant, moved over her, and pushed inside.' He stopped.

'What happened?' Ginny almost-moaned.

Draco sighed sadly. 'He hurt her.'

'Oh. How?'

'She was tight, as I mentioned, and sensitive. Maybe there was something else wrong; I don't know. When he breached her virginity, she started screaming. She went to St Mungo's, sweetheart,' he said shortly. 'She couldn't face him after that. And he doesn't want a repeat performance.'

'How do you know all this?'

'Boy talk,' he shrugged. 'He knew about my reputation. He asked for advice, initially.'

Draco moved to stand in front of Ginny and bent down so he could look her in the face. 'You may think I don't like you, but that's not true. I don't want any girl going through what Vane went through, especially someone so petite and pretty as you. You're a top-rate Quidditch player too, don't forget. Can you imagine what sitting on a broom would have felt like to Vane after that experience?'

Ginny turned white.

'If you want to sleep with Zabini, let me help you,' he whispered.

Oh, gods, she thought. His lips were so close. All she had to do was move a tiny bit forward. Her earlier reservations were just hazy half-memories. Yeah, sure, Malfoy's an arsehole, but he's _so_ sexy…

Her lips met his.

Inwardly triumphant, Draco moved his tongue over her lips before tasting them with his own. Ginny's technique was a little clumsy, but nothing that can't be 'tutored.' Her mouth was open, ready for him, and he slid his tongue inside.

Their kiss grew in passion, until Ginny felt something hard and cold drop into her bodice. She shrieked, and Draco clamped a hand over her mouth in warning.

She fished the object out and held it to the light. It was a coin. A Protean charm.

'I'll contact you,' Draco said.

Ginny nodded shakily.

He cupped her face with his hand and smiled gently. 'I'll do my absolute best not to hurt you,' he said. 'And I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I promise.'

The old Ginny would have reckoned that the value of a Malfoy promise was pretty low.

The current, horny Ginny wanted to rip Draco's clothes off.

He kissed her chastely on the lips. 'You should go.'

Blushing, Ginny nodded, and slipped away.

Draco extinguished his _Lumos_ and leaned against the wall. Closing his eyes, he resisted the urge to grip his erection and stroke it until he came. Instead, he breathed in and out slowly, regulating his heartbeat, until his need subsided.

Thanks to Hermione, he'd learned the value of delayed gratification.

* * *

At long last, Ginny reached her safe haven and stumbled through the Fat Lady's portrait. She tip-toed into the Common Room, eyes firmly on the prize: the stairs to the girls' dorms.

Except - what the hell was that noise? Is someone injured? Sounds like… panting?

She cast a _Lumos_ and waved her wand around the room. Nothing… nothing… nothing… omigod!

Tucked away in a corner of the Common Room on a large cushioned chair sat, or rather, sprawled Neville, his long white hairy legs almost made almost luminescent by Ginny's light. On top of him sat Parvati, her long black hair flowing down her nude back, hips grinding on top of Neville's, her body rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Neville's large hands gripped her hips while he thrust upward to meet her.

Bloody wonderful, thought Ginny sourly. Neville popped his cherry before I did!

Whoever was panting had moved on to throaty moans. Ginny could actually hear the wet slick of their flesh as they joined.

This is so unfair!

Wildly turned on by Draco bloody Malfoy, now this. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Or moaning.

'Oh, Neville, you're so bloody huge, I can't believe it! Gods you fill me up so good, oh yeah, that's it baby, right there!'

Parvati was obviously having a good time.

Ginny shook herself. What kind of pervert had she become? She should just go and let her friends fuck each other in peace.

She crossed the room and reached the stairs. Extinguishing her light, she yawned and said 'Good night Neville, good night Parvati.'

'Wha – oh, gods, Parvati, I'm going to come, oh, OH!'

Sounded like Neville just had a good time, too.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: WARNING: Drinny lemon, of a sort**

* * *

It was probably two in the morning when Draco got to bed. Even so, he found that come seven o'clock, his body was in a hurry to get up and face the day. More than that. It wanted exercise.

Far be it for Draco to deny his body anything.

He hopped out of bed and threw on some track pants, a t-shirt and a hoodie, and headed outside towards the Lake for a run.

'Gracious me! I didn't expect anyone to be up at this hour of the morning, let alone doing something so energetic!'

Draco looked behind him and saw Professor Dumbledore heading towards the vestibule from the direction of Hagrid's cottage.

'Good morning, Professor,' Draco said dutifully.

'Good morning, Mr Malfoy. Did you have a good time last night?'

Draco shrugged. 'Sure.'

Dumbledore nodded genially. 'Such a wonderful surprise for Hogwarts to receive such a generous donation.'

Draco looked longingly in the direction of the Lake. 'Yeah. Well. I guess the money's being put to good use.'

'May I ask why you did it?' Dumbledore asked mildly.

Draco whipped his head back to the Headmaster, a denial ready on his lips. But when he caught the old man's twinkling eyes, he knew it was pointless to try and bluff a wizard who was so skilled a _Legilimens_ that he could nip in and out of your head and literally know your life story without you realising it.

His blonde hair ruffling in the light wind, Draco said 'Maybe it's penance for all the bad things I've done over the years.'

Dumbledore chortled. 'You may not be a model student, Mr Malfoy, but you're hardly a monster.'

Draco smirked. 'Consider it penance in advance for the bad things my children will get up to when they attend Hogwarts.'

The Professor laughed again, and turned for the vestibule. Cheerfully, he said 'Despite their best efforts, I doubt their mother will let them get away with too much.'

Draco stared after the Headmaster as he headed into the castle.

* * *

Most Ball attendees didn't crawl out of bed until lunchtime. One of the exceptions was Ron, who was still unconscious, due to a combination of far too much Firewhisky and immense embarrassment due to the arse he made of himself the previous night.

In the Great Hall, Harry, Seamus and Dean stared across the Gryffindor table at the new and interesting development of Parvati sitting practically on Neville's lap, looking sultry and feeding him grapes, one by one.

'I seem to have missed something,' Dean commented.

'I think everyone has,' muttered Harry.

'Oi!' said Seamus to the cutsey couple. 'Since when have the pair of you been playing 'Mr Wobbly Hides his Helmet'?'

Neville went red, but Parvati fixed Seamus with a disdainful look. 'I don't understand why you're single, Finnegan,' she said sarcastically. 'I really don't.'

'Getting harder and harder around here to find a girl that hasn't made the beast with two backs, if you know what I mean,' sighed Seamus.

Dean looked at him sideways. 'No-one has _any_ idea what you mean.'

'Virgins!' exclaimed Seamus, exasperated. 'How many senior girls do you reckon are still virgins?'

The three boys scouted around the Great Hall.

'Bulstrode?' suggested Dean.

Seamus shuddered. 'Change that to: virgins that we'd want to fuck.'

'What about Ginny?' suggested Dean.

'Not her,' Harry snapped.

'Eh? She's not a virgin, you reckon?' Seamus asked, confused.

'No! It's just…' Harry turned red.

'Oh ho!' Seamus chortled. 'Carrying a bit of a torch for Red, eh?'

'Maybe,' Harry muttered. 'But she's with Zabini, so it doesn't matter.' He poured himself a cup of hot chocolate and sighed. 'He'll be her first. Not me.'

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Ginny sat in the Library and tried to complete her Astronomy homework. But her overly-hormonal imagination wouldn't let her.

When Lavender entered the girls' dorm earlier that morning, looking like she was floating on cloud nine, Ginny asked her if she could ask Theo if it was true that Matilda Vane went out with Blaise last year.

'Matilda Vane?' Lavender asked. 'The one who left suddenly with no explanation?'

'The very same,' sighed Ginny.

Lavender shrugged. 'Okay, sure.'

'Thanks, hon. Oh – can you keep it on the down-low?'

'Will do.' Lavender looked at Ginny closely. 'Is everything okay?'

'Sure is! Peachy keen,' said Ginny over-cheerfully.

After lunch, Lavender confirmed that Matilda did go out with Blaise, but Theo had no idea why she left.

So, at least Malfoy was telling the truth about one thing.

Ginny stared at her parchment again. The words swirled around, making less sense than usual. Gods. She'll have to track down Hermione and ask for help.

Suddenly, something in the back pocket of her jeans started heating up her bottom. Trembling, Ginny fished the Protean charm out of her pocket and read it.

'RoR 4pm. DM.'

Ginny slowly rolled her parchment up and stared at her hands.

* * *

When a door appeared amidst the tapestry of the hideous dancing trolls, Ginny took a deep breath, gripped the door handle, and strode confidently into the Room of Requirement.

She found Draco standing by a canopied bed, flicking through a small book. He looked up at her, and raised a blonde eyebrow.

'I'm not doing this,' Ginny announced.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'Are we going to have this conversation every single time?'

'No, just this once.'

Draco closed the book, dropped it onto the bed and crossed his arms. 'Okay. It's your choice.'

Ginny wasn't expecting it to be that easy. 'Is that all?'

'I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do.' He indicated the door. 'Off you go, Weaselette.'

Ginny turned and put her hand on the door handle.

The image of Matilda Vane formed in her head.

Then Blaise.

Slowly, she let her hand slip off the handle.

She heard Draco approach and stand behind her. He placed a hand on the door by her head.

She waited to see what he would do next.

With his other hand, he untied the ribbon that held her hair in a plait. Her golden-red hair spread over her shoulders and fell down her back. She closed her eyes.

With that same hand, he gathered up her hair and twisted it into a loose knot at the back of her head, baring her neck.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Draco bend his head to her. His lips brushed her skin with the lightest of touches. 'Are you staying?' he whispered.

'Yes,' Ginny breathed.

'Remember what I told you,' he said in the same whisper. 'Nothing that you don't want to do.'

'N-nothing that I don't want to do,' she repeated.

'Good girl.'

She cried out when Draco put his lips to her neck.

* * *

They moved to the bed. Ginny noticed there was a small table next to it, containing a pitcher of iced water and a couple of glasses.

'You'll get thirsty,' he said.

As she watched, a bottle of Firewhisky materialised. Ginny looked back at him.

He shrugged. 'Dutch courage.'

Good idea. She poured herself a small measure and knocked it back. Sticking her tongue out in disgust, much to Draco's amusement, she chased it with some water.

'Can you find any alcohol that doesn't taste like burnt straw?' she asked.

He smiled. 'I'll see what I can do. Now, make yourself comfortable.'

Alarmed, she stared at him with wide eyes.

He sighed. 'Just hop onto the bed, Red. Keep your clothes on.'

Whew. She scrambled up.

'Now,' Draco said. 'The aim of the game is to tutor you in the A to Z of sex. Everything from kissing to blow jobs to sex charms to multiple partners – although that last one will just be in theory,' he clarified. 'As a connoisseur of the art of sex' –

Ginny snorted.

'Charming,' Draco commented drily. 'As I was saying, as a connoisseur of the art of sex, I can assure you that your lessons will be well-researched, professionally delivered, and' – he stopped, pretending he'd forgotten the last one – 'ah, yes: enjoyable. Very enjoyable.'

Ginny rolled her eyes.

He dropped the book onto her lap. She read the title. _The Complete A to Z of Sex._

'Huh,' said Ginny. 'Fancy there being a book on it.'

'Oh, there wasn't,' said Draco with a smirk. 'I wrote it.'

Ginny peeked inside the cover. Sure enough, the wizarding world's most arrogant ferret was the author of this tome. 'Had many reviews?' she asked sardonically.

Draco bared his teeth at her. 'I've had no complaints.'

Truly, his ego was enormous, Ginny marvelled.

'So,' Draco announced, taking the book off her and flipping to a page. 'Without further ado, we'll start with the letter 'A.' He looked down at the page.

 _Anal Sex._

Ah, Draco thought. Maybe we should start with 'B'.

* * *

Something was wrong with Hermione's tummy. Whenever she saw Draco, even if it was just across the tables in the Great Hall, it felt buzzy and warm. Not to mention that the sensation travelled south, deliciously south, to her core, causing her to shift her thighs together.

When they shared classes, her chest felt compressed, somehow. It was harder to draw air when he sat next to her, or conducted Potions experiments at the same bench. Especially when she looked up to find his silver gaze already focussed on her.

There weren't any books in the Infirmary that described her symptoms. But that was okay. She was pretty sure she knew what was wrong with her.

She was falling for him.

The previous six years aside, this year she'd discovered a side to Draco Malfoy that only a few privileged people knew. Not all those countless girls that he'd shagged. People like his friends Blaise and Theo, two Slytherins who were actually rather decent people.

She envied the hell out of Lavender and Theo. She wanted to know what it was like to be so in tune with another person that you could communicate entire sentences just with a shared look.

But it's _Malfoy_ , the saner side of her brain reminded her. Arrogant, oafish, stuck-up, cutting, tormenting, smirking, manipulative, man-whoring –

He's changed, Hermione interrupted herself.

Ha! scoffed a saner part of her brain. A leopard never changes its spots.

Okay! So he's not perfect. Who is?

Jason Robards comes pretty close, replied her brain smugly.

Hermione sighed. I'm not attracted to Jason.

You've not given him a chance.

He's not in Draco's league.

You can say that again!

Hermione banged her head against a wall. I can't believe I'm having an argument with myself! Brain, I order you to think of nothing but Draco's arse in his Quidditch uniform.

Finally, blissful silence.

* * *

 **A couple of weeks later**

'B' is for…

Draco lay nude on the Room of Requirement's bed, propped up against the headboard, struggling to keep from closing his eyes in utter bliss. Ginny lay between his legs, still clothed, with her firelight hair falling over her face while she engulfed his heavy cock with her mouth.

Shuddering in desire, he gathered up her hair and pulled it away from her face so that he could watch his erection slide in and out through those beautiful lips.

She flicked her lovely eyes up to him.

'Doing well,' he whispered, feeling the muscles of his thighs ripple and tense at the sensation.

She worked the remainder of his erection with her hand, stroking him firmly. Gods, she was a good student, he thought. Naturally, since she had an awesome teacher.

He needed more, selfish bastard that he was. 'Are you ready?' he asked gently.

She hummed in the affirmative, sending vibrations down his cock and causing him to knock his head against the headboard.

He tightened his grip on her hair.

Ginny breathed through her nose and relaxed her jaw. She fed Draco's cock into her throat, little by agonising little, until her lips kissed his abdomen. Draco's cock was enveloped in her warm, wet mouth, and when she took him into her throat, the tight confines stimulated his cock so much that he felt light-headed with lust.

She pulled back with a gasp, saliva dripping from her lips onto his shaft and balls.

'Good girl, amazing,' he whispered in encouragement. 'One more time, love…'

She swallowed him again while he held her head in place. After a few seconds she started to struggle, but he held firm, counting. 'Five… four… three… two… one…'

He released her and she surged off him with a gasp.

'You okay?' he asked.

She nodded, her chest heaving.

'Don't forget the safe signal,' he reminded her. 'If you're uncomfortable, use it without hesitation. Or use your wand.'

Ginny shook her head. 'Didn't… need it.'

Draco smiled. She was one plucky girl. With every lesson, his respect for her increased. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, then laid back again. His cock was throbbing. He wouldn't last much longer.

Ginny wrapped a small saliva-slick hand around his large cock and stroked him almost viciously. She plied her lips around the remainder of him and sucked him hard, flicking her tongue around him. Draco moaned when her cheeks hollowed under the pressure she applied. Up and down she bobbed her head on his cock, her hot wet mouth, her tongue and the merest scrape of teeth –

'I'm gonna come, Red!' he gritted out.

She moaned around his cock.

That did it.

With a strangled oath, Draco pulsed into Ginny's mouth. When he emptied himself out, she looked at him and swallowed his come. Then she slowly moved her mouth up and down his still-sensitive cock, flicking her tongue over his head, and sucking, sucking, sucking…

'Hell, girl, you're gonna make me pass out,' Draco whispered.

She released him, sat back and waited, licking her lips.

Draco ran his shaking hands through his hair while he regarded the silent girl, watching him with an eyebrow raised. Her lips were wet and swollen and her cheeks were red. His cock twitched. It was almost dead, but it still wanted more.

He took a shuddering breath. 'O for Out-fucking-standing.'

Ginny grinned. She _accioed_ two glasses of water, and passed one to Draco. They both drank deeply.

The afternoon was becoming chilly, so Draco slipped under the sheets. He held out a hand to Ginny, and she climbed up to lie next to him on top of the duvet.

He brushed her hair back from her face, and kissed her again, enveloping her in his arms.

'What's next?' asked Ginny sleepily.

'Whatever you like,' he replied.

* * *

Another Quidditch day rolled around. This time, it was the showdown between the new, improved Gryffindor team and Slytherin, arch-foes since, well, probably when the school was founded.

Until recently, the stands at the Quidditch pitch would be firmly demarcated into Houses, easily recognised by the prolific displays of each House's primary colours, along with the frantic waving of signs and banners that insulted the other Houses.

Today, however, dots of green were spotted amongst the red-and-gold. Since most of Theo and Blaise's friends were on the Slytherin team, they elected to sit with their Gryffindor girlfriends. Pansy, secretly fucking the Captain of the Gryffindor team into rubber-legged ecstasy, tagged along with Blaise and Theo because there weren't many others left in Slytherin that she cared to bother herself with.

So it was with some surprise that Hermione found herself sitting next to the green-scarved Pansy Parkinson, a girl who, over the previous years, had done nothing but belittle and besmirch her for her hair, teeth, intelligence, and Muggle-ness. Oh, and let's not forget: fashion sense.

Hermione swallowed her sigh of despair, and prayed this game would be a quick one.

'Huh,' Pansy commented, standing up and having a good look-see. 'It's another perspective entirely when you sit in this part of the stand.'

'Guess so,' said Hermione.

Pansy sat back down. 'I have a confession to make.'

Do I look like a priest? thought Hermione sourly. 'What's that?' she asked neutrally.

'I think Gryffindor will win today.'

Hermione boggled at Pansy. 'Are you feeling all right?' she asked. She held up her hand. 'How many fingers am I holding up?'

Pansy laughed, a tinkling sound. 'Silly girl,' she said without _too_ much malice. 'I've been having conversations with Potter about his time at Durmstrang, and I'm quite confident that his overseas study will benefit the Gryffindor team greatly.'

Hermione studied Pansy's face suspiciously. She was sure she was missing something.

'But Draco can always be relied on to do something unexpected,' said Pansy speculatively.

At the mention of his name, Hermione jerked. 'What do you mean?' she asked, slightly combatively.

Pansy smirked. 'He's tenacious. Cunning. Fiendishly intelligent. He can spot a ploy from miles away. He's intuitive. Oh, and he's fast. Very fast. Sometimes you won't even know whether he's right behind you, close enough to smell your scent, and you'll have no idea… unless he wants you to know.'

Hermione's heart was palpitating. Surely she was imagining Pansy's innuendo.

'Have you slept with him?' she asked, then immediately buried her face in her hands and wished she could die.

Pansy laughed easily. 'No, darling. The opportunity's never arisen.'

Hermione still didn't look up.

'Hey.' Through her fingers, she watched Pansy bend down to her level. 'I know he likes you. More than that, actually. He's fascinated by you.'

Hermione had no idea what to say.

'Don't pay any attention to those other slags he's shagged,' Pansy continued. 'I think you have what it takes.'

Hermione peeked through her fingers. 'What's that?' she quavered.

Pansy leaned close to her ear. 'For him to fall in love with you.'

Hermione slowly sat up.

'Hooray! Here they come!' yelled Neville, and the spell was broken.

* * *

 **A/N: Dramione approaches**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thank you for the massive number of reviews I received for chapter 18. I was really nervous when I opened them, but the majority were amazingly positive. Thank you all so much!**

 **Dramione lemons, finally – thanks for your patience.**

* * *

The Quidditch game was fast and brutal. Exactly as it should be.

Draco had to admit, the Gryffindorks had the edge on Slytherin in terms of fitness and speed. They were miles ahead in points, to his chagrin. But it's never over until the fat lady belts out a classic, and the snitch was still at large.

'Feeling your age, Grandad?' Ginny taunted with a smirk as she zoomed past him.

He grinned sardonically. 'Watch your back, Red Riding Hood.'

She cackled. 'Definitely. Because my back is all you'll see!'

He laughed, shaking his head. 'You'll keep, girl.'

Below, unnoticed, Harry stared up at them.

* * *

'Come on, come on…' Draco muttered to himself. Just one little snitch is all I ask!

For what seemed like the millionth time, he did a circuit of the pitch, eyes peeled for that elusive glint of gold.

 _Whoosh!_

He couldn't bloody believe it. The cheeky little snitch just flew past his nose!

Galvanised, he whirled his broom around and tore after it at breakneck speed. The crowd roared. Too late, Harry spurred his broom into action and entered the chase, but it seemed that today was not Gryffindor's day.

Draco unfurled his fist. There it sat, its wings purring.

Victory.

* * *

'He's got the golden touch,' Blaise marvelled to Theo as they walked back to the castle. Lavender had gone on ahead with Parvati and Neville.

'True,' nodded Theo. 'I wonder how unbearable he'll be, later?'

Blaise chuckled.

'Blaise,' Theo started thoughtfully.

'Yeah?'

'Lavender asked me about Vane.'

Blaise stopped walking and stared at his friend. 'About what, exactly?'

'Whether you'd gone out with her.'

Blaise was confused. 'Why?'

'Not sure. I got the impression she was asking on someone's behalf. Just thought you should know.'

Blaise frowned. 'Ta.'

They trudged back to the school in silence.

* * *

'Why the hell not? Are you ashamed of me?' Harry was pissed off.

My, he looks sexy when he's angry, Pansy marvelled. She affected a sad face.

'Once bitten, twice shy, darling. My relationship with Blaise was common gossip, and all the open speculation tainted it. I just want to be selfish a bit more and keep you all to myself.' She pouted prettily.

Harry sighed, left the broom closet where he'd dragged her to, and re-joined the after-match party.

He was sure things wouldn't have been this bloody complicated with Ginny.

* * *

It was late.

Hermione couldn't sleep.

She perched on the window seat in her bedroom and watched the clouds chase each other across the full moon.

She applied herself to her hobby problem: discovering the identity of the mystery benefactor. She reviewed what she had deduced so far:

The benefactor was rich. Obviously.

They attended Hogwarts, so they were either a student or a staff member. She didn't think the staff earned enough money to throw away such an enormous figure without making themselves destitute ten times over, so it was more likely a student, or a student's family.

Next, she narrowed down the list of students to Seventh Years. This amazing gesture happened during the Yule Ball, the last grand event for them, besides graduation. Yeah, it was an assumption with no evidence to back it, but her spidey-senses were tingling.

Hermione listed the students who came from rich families. As she earlier noted, they were in Slytherin. Being cunning must be an essential trait for making money, she supposed.

Anyway. They were:

Blaise Zabini – except it was plain that he was as shocked about the money as she was. Also, he said he spoke to the benefactor, so if he's telling the truth, it wasn't him.

Theo Nott – if he was supremely loved-up, maybe he went a little mad and made a very extravagant gesture? Lavender confessed that he bought her ball dress for her. But Hermione couldn't imagine Theo going _that_ mad. Personal gestures seemed to be more his cup of tea.

Pansy Parkinson – if it was her, we're all in a hell of a lot of trouble. There's no way on earth she would give that amount of money away without expecting something in return. Please don't let it be Parkinson, Hermione prayed.

Draco Malfoy – his family was easily richer than all the others put together, if his bragging in earlier years was anything to go by. But why would he do it? Draco's never shown a philanthropic streak before. And he's not shy. If he donated the money, surely he'd want it shouted from the rooftops?

That was where she had got to.

She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She was missing something… think, girl!

The money was used as a 'bank' for gambling tokens.

The theme of the Ball was changed at late notice. To a casino.

There was something Ginny said while Hermione was yelling at Draco…. She screwed her eyes up and thought hard. Yes! She had it. Ginny said 'Yeah, but he did suggest it.' Then Draco glared at her.

Draco suggested changing the Ball theme.

The fundraising for S.P.E.W got put by the wayside in favour of the remaining gambling money.

Draco was on the fundraising team.

 _Click_.

Hermione brought her shaking hands to her mouth.

Draco was the mysterious benefactor.

She grabbed her wand and robe.

* * *

Draco was roused from sleep by the unsettling thought that something was sitting on his chest. He opened an eye, and yelped.

Sitting on his chest was an otter Patronus.

'I'm at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room,' it said in Hermione's voice. 'Please let me in. I need to talk to you.'

He checked the time. Half-past one in the morning! She's mad.

On the other hand, for a madwoman, she's very rational. If she wanted to talk to him now, it was probably very important.

He slid out of bed, pulled on a pair of black pyjama pants and shoved his arms into his robe.

* * *

Draco opened the Common Room entrance, and sure enough, there she was. Barefoot, her robe opened partially to reveal a short white chemise with broderie anglaise trim around the hem and shoulder straps. Just the sort of innocent-looking nightwear that makes most hot-blooded men, Draco included, think very naughty thoughts. Her hair was wild. Her eyes were huge.

Another outfit for him to fantasise about removing from her.

Hermione stared back at Draco. His pyjama pants settled just below his taut hips. He was shirtless, his stunning body partly obscured by his robe. His hair was messy, making him look younger, which oddly contrasted with the man's body he presented.

He looked like Firewhisky-soaked sin. Liquid pooled between her legs.

Before Draco could ask where the fire was, she spoke. 'It was you,' she whispered.

Malfoy rule: if in doubt, deny everything.

'No…?' said Draco uncertainly.

'You're the mysterious benefactor. Don't lie to me Draco, I worked it out!'

Oh, bugger it all.

He sighed and leaned tiredly against the wall. 'I should have known you wouldn't let it go.'

She stepped up to him, so close they could feel the warmth of each other's bodies. 'All that work – changing the Ball theme, convincing the Ball Committee, transfiguring the money, not to mention withdrawing _all_ that money…' She bit her lip. 'Why did you do it?'

'You want to have this discussion now?'

'Yes, damn it!' she hissed. 'I need to know! It's important.'

He looked at her. Her very kissable bottom lip was trembling, and her eyes sparked. Gods. Right now, he was her slave.

He let out a breath. 'The original fundraising wasn't generating enough interest. You were sick, and I didn't want you to worry, or be disappointed. You do so much for this bloody school, but no-one can be bothered to' – he stopped and calmed himself. 'I knew you had too much pride to accept the money if I just gave it to you. So…'

Hermione put a hand to her mouth. Her eyes brimmed. Then she shakily placed her fingers over Draco's lips. Desire shot through him, making him harder than he'd ever been before.

'Everything you've done for me this year...' she whispered. She raised her eyes heavenward, before focussing on his serious, silver gaze.

'I'm in love with you.'

Draco swallowed hard. He brought his hand up to hers. Holding her gaze, he parted his lips and slid her fingers gently into his mouth.

She gasped.

He slowly pulled them out, relishing her taste, the smallness of her. Then he bent his head down to her, his lips just a hair's-breadth away. He looked into her soul-deep eyes, awaiting her permission.

Her breath hitched. She looked at him fiercely.

At last, at long last, the moment Draco had been dreaming about for months upon fucking months was here.

His mouth opened. Words he'd never thought he'd say tumbled from his lips.

'I love you, too. Gods, how much I love you.'

His lips finally touched hers.

* * *

They ended up in his room, somehow; they had no recollection of getting there. Given that Hermione's legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, he must have carried her back.

Locking the door and silencing the room, he peeled Hermione's robe off her, not wanting to do the sensible thing and put her on the ground first. Not wanting to leave her lips, her mouth, her body, ever.

Easily shifting her from one arm to another while he pulled her robe free and got rid of his, Hermione ran her hands over him. Draco was an enigma. Clothed, he looked slim and pale. But underneath, his skin was in fact a light gold, with almost translucent hairs brushing across his forearms. A path of darker hair started below his navel and snaked down to an area she had yet to explore.

His skin was warm, so warm, and when she ghosted her hands over his body, the solid muscle beneath the flesh made him feel… _wicked_. He was far, far, stronger than she ever gave him credit for. But the gentle way in which he held her made any fears she might have had fall away.

She threaded her hands through his blonde hair – it felt so soft, and smelled _amazing_ – and searched for his mouth again. This time, when they kissed, Hermione learned that Draco had previously restrained himself. Now, their mouths collided, their lips biting and tasting each other, their tongues probing each other's mouths; a promise of things to come. When they finally pulled apart, they were robbed of breath, and their lips were swollen.

'Hermione,' Draco whispered, pulling her even closer to him, 'I need you so much.' His voice shook. He had never felt this way with anyone else before.

'Take me to bed,' she pleaded.

This beautiful woman…

His mind shut down.

* * *

If Draco was a religious man, prayers would have fallen from his lips when he finally laid Hermione bare on his bed. His silver eyes missed nothing as he explored and committed her beautiful body to memory. Every finger. Every toe, with toenails coloured a lurid red, such a sexy surprise to discover. A scar on her shin that thought was ugly. But it wasn't. A bruise on her thigh that she got from bumping against a table in the Library. He kissed it better.

He traced a constellation of fine freckles across her torso. Only then did he trust himself enough to palm her perfect breasts and touch her pebble-hard nipples with his tongue.

Hermione gasped at his touch, arching her back, wanting Draco to take more.

He increased the pressure with his lips, tugging, feeling invincible when she sobbed out 'Gods, Draco, yes…' He rolled her other nipple between his fingers, mimicking the movement he made with his mouth. She wailed for him.

His erection was so hard it was hurting him. He reluctantly broke from her nipple and kissed her mouth deeply, taking her hand and guiding it south. She knew what he wanted, and wrapped her hand as far as she could around his cock.

He swore, or maybe prayed, at the sensation of her touch. She pumped his flesh up and down, a little erratically. She'd never done it before. He would be her first. The thought of it made him feel high.

Kissing her again, he broke from her and moved his lips down her body. She tasted like ambrosia. He doubted he would get through a day without tasting her anymore.

Hermione's legs tensed a little when he stopped at her delicious, dripping core. 'It's okay, love,' he whispered, planting kisses on her thighs to settle her.

'I've never done it before,' she murmured, a little ashamed.

'We don't have to if you don't want to,' he promised. He'd never forced a girl in his life, ever. 'But I promise you'll feel good.'

'Do it, please,' she whispered, with her eyes screwed closed.

He lay down between her legs and spread her thighs apart. Immediately, he began to salivate at the sight of her bare, pink folds, glistening wet. He blew air onto them, causing Hermione to jump – and then moan.

Draco couldn't hold back any longer. He licked her flesh, starting from the perineum, up to her clitoris, in one torturous pass, making her sob. He closed his eyes in bliss and stopped to centre himself. Her scent, her taste, was ethereal.

He returned to her, ravenously licking and tasting every part of her - labia, core, clitoris. His beautiful girl was writhing, her thighs trembling from the sensation, calling out with broken words, begging him not to stop. He smiled. There was no fear of that. He spread her legs impossibly wider and feasted on her clitoris. She was nearly there. He could feel it.

Hermione was hot, her body was thrashing on the bed. To watch this half-naked man eat her out with abandon nearly broke her. Energy began to radiate from her core. 'D-Draco!' she gasped. 'Gods please please please …'

He briefly looked up, then captured her clitoris between his lips and squeezed.

Ecstacy shot through every pore of Hermione's body. She opened her mouth and screamed in silence, brokenly gasping as raw sensation radiated from her cunt. Draco was rewarded with a gush of come into his mouth. It was enough to nearly make him come himself.

He brought her safely down, slowing his lips and tongue until her trembling body subsided.

They'll be doing that every day, he decided. He'll find a way to convince her.

But for now, he wanted to be inside her. He _had_ to be inside her.

Draco moved back up to her lovely face. She grasped his shoulders and pulled him down for her kiss. Her legs were still spread open. 'I want to be yours,' she whispered.

Draco settled between her legs and moaned when his aching, weeping cock touched her newly-slick folds.

'Yes,' Hermione hissed, moving her hips, the little strumpet.

He lined himself up, and…

…bowed his head in anguish.

'I can't do this now, love.'

* * *

Hermione looked down where their bodies nearly joined. His cock looked like granite. 'Um, it kind of looks like you want to,' she noted.

'Oh, I definitely want to,' he gritted. 'Gods, if you knew how much…'

She looked sad. 'Well, then – why?'

He kissed her gently. 'It's half-past two in the morning, and we have school in a few hours. I want to take my time with you, love. Time that we don't have now.'

'Oh.'

He looked into her beautiful eyes. 'Stay with me,' he whispered. 'Please.'

She smiled, and curled into his arms.

They drifted into sleep, shutting the world away.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco didn't get much sleep. He would drift off, with Hermione's peaceful, beautiful face the last thing he would see. But soon afterward, he would wrench himself awake, coldly, wildly certain that the past few hours, the _best_ few hours, were nothing more than a taunting dream.

But to his immense relief, the woman he knew with certainty that he loved still slept, only a breath of space away. Her hair spiralled over their shared pillow.

Boy, that's a lot of hair, he marvelled.

He reached out a shaking finger, and gently touched her cheek. Still sleeping, she smiled and turned to him.

Comforted, he let his eyes fall shut once more.

* * *

The next time he opened his eyes, she was gone.

Cold fear gripped his heart, and he bolted upright, casting a _Lumos._

The jerky movements of his wand discovered Hermione near the door, pulling on her robe. 'I need to go before anyone in Slytherin sees me,' she whispered. She peered at Draco. 'You okay?'

'I thought you were gone.' For good.

Her face softened, and she crawled onto the bed. Corralling her mop of hair with one hand, she bent over him and kissed him, achingly slowly. 'I'm not leaving you,' she said fervently. She grinned. 'I haven't fully discovered whether the legendary tales of your prowess in bed are true.'

Draco smirked. 'Rumours of my magnificence may have been greatly under-represented.'

Hermione laughed. Draco instantly resolved to make her laugh as often as possible. Her laughter transformed her whole body. It made her face… _gods_ …

He gave up. He couldn't find the words.

He brought his hand to the nape of her neck and gently pulled her towards him. They kissed one last time.

'See you later,' she smiled, and disappeared through the door.

Draco stared at his canopy, wondering what he'd done to deserve her.

* * *

At breakfast, Draco yawned like a lion repeatedly through his toast and coffee.

'Rough night?' asked Blaise.

Draco smiled goofily at him. 'Great night.'

Blaise and Theo exchanged knowing grins. No doubt Draco had shagged some bird into the mattress last night.

* * *

Draco had a free study period just before lunch. Sitting in a patch of mild sun at a desk in the Library, he headed up a piece of parchment for his Defence against the Dark Arts assignment, tapping his quill absent-mindedly. Gods, it was hard to concentrate today. Something was niggling in the back of his mind. He knew what it was; he might as well face it.

It was guilt.

He made a deal with Pansy in the heat of the moment and for his own revenge. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed himself with Ginny, too. But then Hermione came to him.

He thought about one of his lessons with Ginny. Even though they'd never had sex, not even Merlin himself would believe that the interlude was just innocent fun:

 _..._

 _This time, the Room of Requirement produced two comfortable wing-back chairs, placed before a fireplace. A small fire burned cheerily in the grate. A coffee table held the requisite water, Firewhisky and a glass of German Riesling. Through trial and error, Draco discovered that Ginny was partial to the sweeter varieties of alcohol. The lights were dimmed, but it wasn't dark._

 _Ginny entered the room a little nervously, and sat opposite Draco in the spare chair. Replicating the ritual Draco had established to put Ginny at ease, they chatted about Quidditch while she sipped, or glugged, her wine, depending on her nerves._

' _Careful,' Draco noted as he watched a good third of the wine disappear down her throat in one go. 'That's the only glass you're getting.'_

 _Ginny rolled her eyes. 'You're as bad as my brothers,' she said. 'All of them combined.'_

' _You take that back, Miss Weasley,' Draco said in a low voice. 'Or I shall be forced to bend you over my knee and spank you.'_

 _Over the wineglass, Ginny's eyes darkened with arousal._

' _But that's not what we're here for today, is it?' he smirked._

 _She smirked back._

 _Good, he thought. She's not so nervous now._

 _Draco took a sip of Firewhisky. 'That's what you're planning to wear?' he asked, indicating her school uniform._

' _Seems the most logical choice.'_

' _You might want to lose the jumper before you start,' he advised. 'There's just no sexy way to remove a jumper.'_

' _Fair enough.' She deftly removed it and glanced back at Draco. He was comfortably sprawled in his chair, just in his school shirt and trousers. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone. His arm, holding his drink, was gracefully propped on an armrest. He looked very relaxed, she thought. And outrageously sexy, damn him._

 _Draco met her eyes with his penetrating gaze. 'Whenever you're ready,' he murmured._

 _She tossed back the last of the wine._

* * *

 _Ginny looked at Draco through hooded eyes. She raised her slender legs and propped her feet on the seat. Even though her ankles and knees were together, he could see beyond them to her panties. She unlaced her shoes, then dropped them onto the floor._

 _Draco raised an eyebrow. He hadn't taught her that. His student was showing initiative._

 _And it was working. Already his arousal stirred._

 _Draco had told Ginny that Muggle strippers usually perform their craft in time to music, but Ginny scoffed at that. After trying a few things, she decided she felt most comfortable affecting a nonchalant, but carefully slow and sexy striptease, where stripper-like movements were incorporated so they looked like a natural extension of removing her clothes._

 _She put her feet on the floor and stood up. She moved to the side of the chair, casually trailing an arm over the upholstery. She loosened her tie with one hand, flicking her head to one side as she did so. Holding the knot with one hand, she slowly pulled it loose with the other, looking straight at Draco. She held the loose tie with her fingers and extended her arm to the side. Then let the tie fall to the floor._

 _Draco sat still, but one side of his mouth quirked upwards. His arousal was evident._

 _ran her hands slowly down her sides, closing her eyes and parting her lips. She raised her hands to the top buttons of her shirt, but turned away from Draco and saucily walked away from him, swinging her hips while she undid the buttons. She stopped, parting her legs a little. She pulled the shirt back over her shoulders, then turned back, holding the shirt closed with one had across her chest. She walked slowly towards him, releasing the shirt and letting it fall from her arms._

 _This time, Draco's silver gaze hardened in arousal, and he adjusted his erection through his trousers._

 _Next, Ginny brushed the hem of her skirt with her hands, letting the heavy material flutter and swirl around her legs. Keeping her eyes steady on Draco, she pulled the zipper down and let the skirt fall._

 _She walked gracefully back to the chair, sprawling in it so one leg was on the floor, and the other swung over the armrest. Pretending to ignore him, Ginny lazily extended one leg upwards and skowly rolled her sock down. She ran her hands lightly over the leg, emphasising its shape and smoothness. Satisfied, she repeated with the other leg. All that was left was her bra and panties._

 _Transfixed, Draco's glass of Firewhisky sat forgotten in his hand._

 _Ginny swivelled in her chair towards him. A mocking smile played on her face. Slowly, she eased down one bra strap, then the other. She reached behind her with one hand, and undid the clasp. Drawing the straps off her arms, she pulled the bra away from her body. As she did with the tie, she dangled it by one finger from a strap; then let it fall. She pretended to yawn, and stretched her arms up, resting them against the backrest. Her perky breasts were on full display. Draco could look his fill._

' _Fuck,' he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat._

 _Ginny set one leg back on the ground, then the other. Slowly, she stood up from the chair. She undid the band from her ponytail and let her fiery hair fall past her shoulders. She shook it out, then pulled it back with both hands, tendrils spread over her fingers. Her breasts rose again, and her hard nipples jutted out._

 _Fixing her large eyes on Draco, she took slow, deliberate steps towards him. She stopped in front of him, far enough away so he couldn't touch her. She let her hair fall, and wet her lips. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slowly worked them past her hips to the top of her thighs. Then stopped._

 _Draco forced his eyes from her pussy up to her face. Now she was the one in charge._

 _Their eyes met; and she let her panties fall. She lightly brushed her fingertips through the red curls at the junction of her thighs. They glistened._

 _Draco released a pent-up breath in a shudder. Bloody, bloody hell. His erection was harder than stone._

 _In a heartbeat, Ginny straddled herself across Draco's lap. Kneeling, her breasts were right at Draco's mouth._

 _His self-control died._

 _Clutching her body to him, he ravenously tongued and sucked at Ginny's nipples; first one, then the other. Ginny's head fell back on a moan; her autumnal hair rippled down her back. Her pelvis rocked against Draco's body._

 _He pulled himself free from her breasts, wrapped his hands in her hair, and pulled her down for his kiss. It was violent; comprised of pent-up sexual tension from them both. Their lips, their tongues, their teeth clashed. They fought with each other for dominance; neither wanted to be soft or gentle._

 _Ginny sank down onto Draco's clothed erection. She ground her hips mercilessly onto him, crying out in bliss at the ecstasy from rubbing her clitoris against his stone-hard arousal. In turn, a groan of white-hot need escaped from Draco's mouth as the sensation worked him into an almost uncontrollable frenzy of desire._

 _Almost._

' _Gin,' he rasped._

' _No, I'm not stopping!' she moaned._

' _You have to stop.'_

 _She let out a scream of frustration. 'Why, for Godric's fucking sake?' she cried. 'I need to come! I know you do, too! Just fuck me! Please!'_

 _Dredging up the last vestiges of his self-control from who -knows-where, he picked Ginny up by the waist and gently set her back on the floor. 'I'm not taking your virginity this way,' he said, his voice cracking._

 _She shoved him hard, back into his chair. 'I hate you!' she screamed. 'Why do you always do this to me?' Tears tracked down her cheeks, and Draco felt like the biggest bastard in the world._

' _Ginny' – he stood up again and stretched out a hand to her._

' _Leave me alone!' she shrieked. Stumbling, she picked up her clothes and began to shove them back on. Soon, she was dressed as demurely as a – well, a schoolgirl again. Except for… where the hell are her panties?_

 _Oh._

 _Slowly, she turned around._

 _Draco, still standing by his chair, was holding her panties in his hand._

 _Oh, gods. She shouldn't have looked at him. He looked so sad._

' _I'm sorry, Gin,' he whispered. 'But you have to trust me. I promised I would do my best not to hurt you and I will stand by that promise, because I respect you. A lot. But right now, I have almost no self-control, and if I fuck you, that is exactly what will happen.'_

 _Ginny sniffled._ 'Accio _panties,' she whispered._

 _She put on her panties, then shoved her feet into her shoes. When she looked up, Draco stood in front of her, a respectful distance away, holding a glass of Riesling._

' _I thought you said I was only allowed one glass,' she mumbled._

 _He smiled. 'Consider it your reward for passing the striptease exam with flying colours.'_

 _She looked at him, then got up and accepted the glass._

 _Draco headed to the fireplace, and sat down in front of it. 'Join me?' he asked._

 _She sat down next to him._

 _Draco put an arm around her and carefully brought her body to his._

 _She relaxed in his arms. They looked into the fire. Sipped their drinks. Said nothing._

* * *

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. This couldn't go on. He'd have to tell Ginny.

The period of time utterly wasted, he gathered his gear together and headed to the Great Hall to yawn through lunch.

* * *

This time, Draco came to Hermione. He only had to avoid Blaise, and maybe Ginny, rather than Hermione having to avoid the entire House of Slytherin. Their relationship was too new, too valuable, for it to be subjected to the ravages of House censure. Even if all of Slytherin, Snape included, were used to the long line of girls wearing a smooth path to and from Draco's room, seeing Hermione tacked on to the end pf that line would be cause for speculation indeed.

Hermione sent Draco a _Patronus_ when Blaise headed out on Prefect duty. Even though Draco felt dead on his feet from lack of sleep and from trudging up the many flights of stairs to the Heads' Dorm, his fatigue fell away when she opened the Portrait Hole and smiled at him with simple happiness.

'Your portrait has a serious attitude problem,' he commented.

Hermione snorted. 'She's got the hots for Blaise. Everyone, including me, gets the third degree every single time we approach, but she just lets Blaise through with this hideous simper on her face. Just as well there aren't any portraits in our bedrooms, otherwise she'd be perving at him all night.'

Draco laughed and caught her up in his arms. They kissed, learning each other.

It was quite the intensive learning session.

When they finally broke apart, Hermione whispered 'Come upstairs with me.'

Draco was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Hermione spent a little bit of time in the bathroom. Okay, possibly more than a little bit of time. This was going to be _the_ night, she reasoned. Where she would make love with Draco and give her virginity to him. Her hair had to be perfect. Her legs had to be smooth. Her de-haired bits had to remain de-haired. Et cetera.

When she looked as sultry as possible, she left the bathroom and headed into her bedroom…

… to find Draco nude in her bed, covered with a sheet up to his hips…

… totally asleep.

Rather than feel totally cheesed - and ripped - off, she smiled. She'd noticed him propping himself up at mealtimes today, and practically slapping himself to keep awake in the classes she shared with him. He must have had a turbulent night.

She climbed into bed, careful not to disturb him.

He slept on his back, with an arm flung across his eyes. His beautiful lips were slightly parted.

She snuggled down close to him, carefully drawing the duvet up. When she laid her hand on his chest, he turned to her and drew her in to him.

She looked up at his face. He was still asleep.

Her heart fluttered.

Yeah, she knew the stories. Seen what an arrogant prat he can be. Had been on the receiving end of his taunts, more than once. Ron could barely restrain himself from committing murder when he saw him.

But this year… Draco had been her rock. Her saviour. Her friend. Her lover.

And God knew, she wanted him so much.


	21. Chapter 21

Ginny climbed into bed, pulling the canopy curtains around her. Safe in her cocoon, she thought about tomorrow, and what it would bring.

She would give her virginity to Draco.

Ginny closed her eyes.

Tomorrow, she thought hungrily. I will have sex for the first time.

She ran her hands slowly down her body.

* * *

Draco had a Potions tutorial scheduled with the Traumatised First Years, and Hermione decided to pay them a visit. It's been ages since she saw her dear First Years, she reasoned.

Not because she wants to jump the tutor and shag him into the middle of next week. At all.

She smiled to herself as she headed to the dungeons.

* * *

'You see?' said Ron, staring after Hermione as she floated past him, completely oblivious to his presence. 'Something weird is going on in the dungeons. First Lavender, now Hermione.'

'And Ginny, possibly,' Harry added. And Pansy, definitely, he added silently.

Ron whirled around and faced Harry in a panic. 'Whaddya mean?

Harry took a wise step backward. 'I happened to notice Ginny and Malfoy trade barbs on the Quidditch pitch during the last game…' he trailed off.

Ron's face was purple. 'Were they flirting?' he roared.

'No! Um. I don't know.' Once again, Harry regretted opening his yap before he thought. 'They… bantered. That's all.'

'Bantered,' said Ron.

'Yeah. Bantered.'

Ron curled his fist. 'If I find out that the sleaziest wanker Slytherin's ever kept within its slimy walls has touched my sister, I'll – I'll – I'll –'

Steam practically ran out of his ears.

Harry patted Ron on the back. 'I hear you,' he said grimly.

* * *

Hermione entered a Potions classroom - the likes of which she'd never seen before. What looked like a veritable whirlwind bustled around the cavernous tomb, but it was a whirlwind of happy, chatty students. Not Snape and his unworldly – like ability to spread himself over the entirety of the classroom using nothing more than the power of his shaggy eyebrows.

Draco noticed her above the harum-scarum of infantile Hogwartians. 'Hello!' he called, waving her in. 'What brings you to this den of insanity?'

Hermione laughed, wading her way through a bunch of excited First Years who wanted to wrap their sticky hands around their original mentor and tell her, loudly and in intricate detail, exactly what they'd gotten up to since she last saw them.

To her, that was a universe away; so much had happened since then.

She finally made it to the platform where Draco was lounging against Snape's desk. 'What happened?' she laughed. 'Did you replicate them?'

Draco grinned. 'Word somehow spread of the tutorials, and I was approached by a delegation of Traumatised Second Years, and well, I couldn't really say no…'

Hermione smiled, a smile only for him. 'You could have said no, but you didn't.'

Draco's cheeks turned cutely pink.

She leaned in to his ear. I'm just here to observe,' she whispered. 'Watching you teach turns me on.'

Merlin's blue balls!

Draco looked down at his shoes, willing his erection to subside. He wrapped his robes around him, just in case.

'Okay, everyone!' he called. 'Find a seat, this is a theory tutorial. No messy, blow-uppy experiments today.'

'Aww!' groaned his full classroom as they slouched into place.

Draco fixed them with a Look, but only at a quarter of its usual power. The kiddies giggled, and settled.

He headed to the blackboard. 'Right. The first table to write down – correctly, I might add - all twelve uses for dragon blood gets to leave here ten minutes early. Go!'

A classroom-full of heads immediately bent over their tables, scribbling, arguing and giggling.

Hermione watched them fondly.

Feeling Draco near her, her body longed for him.

Delayed gratification.

* * *

Hermione was helping Draco pack up after the tutorial when he felt his rear pocket heat up. Where he kept his Protean charm.

He glanced at the time. Oh, bugger all the nine circles of hell! He was meant to meet Ginny.

Hermione noticed him slow. 'You all right?'

He smiled briefly. 'Yeah. I'd forgotten I have an appointment, but I'll see you later. I hope?'

She quirked her head and smiled. 'Of course. See you later.'

'Yeah. Definitely.'

Hermione bounced out of the classroom, and Draco's stomach turned to lead.

* * *

Draco opened the door to the Room of Requirement and peered around it. 'Hey.'

'Hey.' Ginny was sitting on the bed, still clothed, thanks be to Merlin. 'Not like you to be the last one here.'

'Potions tutorial. The little brats make a hell of a mess.'

'Professor Malfoy.' She grinned. 'It sounds less ridiculous the more you say it.'

Despite himself, he smiled, and closed the door. He headed to the bedside table, and took a gigantic slug of Firewhisky.

Ginny watched him. 'As much as it pains me to say it, I've gotten to know you. You're nervous. How come?'

Draco looked away. 'Red, I have to say, I've grown to like you. Very much.'

'Oh, gods,' Ginny murmured. 'You're dumping me.'

'We were never together, love. I can't dump you.'

He sat next to her. He didn't touch her. He knew very well when she would and would not be touched. Gods. She was right. They _did_ know each other.

Eventually she looked at him. Her face was serene, but her eyes were misty. 'Why?'

He opted for a semblance of the truth. 'As outrageous as it may seem,' he began, 'I've fallen in love with someone. And I want to be true to her. I want to retire from the man-whore life. Just be a one-woman bloke.'

Ginny let her head fall forward. Her brilliant hair fell down, obscuring her face.

'Gin,' he whispered.

Nothing.

'I'm sorry, love. But I can't sleep with you.'

A hiccup sounded underneath the hair.

He bit his lip. 'Throughout these lessons, you always thought I was a jackass, right?'

She huffed. 'Hell, yeah.'

'I'm still a jackass, right?'

'No truer word was ever spoken.'

'Do you love me?'

Ginny sputtered and looked up at him, sweeping her hair back. 'Are you out of your tiny little mind?'

'Good.' He smirked, but at a dialled-down level. 'For a minute, I was worried.'

Ginny sighed, then settled into his offered arm. 'I'm just disappointed. I've come so far, and now…'

Draco kissed her hair. 'The last step is yours. To choose who you want to give your virginity to. If it's Blaise, let him know that you're smaller than average, and that he has to be slow and gentle and not go in all the way. I'm sure it will be fine.'

Ginny nodded, and they sat side by side for a while.

'Malfoy?'

'Yep?

'Who's the girl?'

He was silent for a bit. Then he said 'Someone I don't deserve. Someone who could turn me into a good man.'

Silence.

Then Ginny said: 'I hope you'll both be happy.'

He hugged her. Their last one. He'll always be fond of this lovely, fiery Weasley.

* * *

Draco stood outside the Portrait Hole for the Heads' Dorm, trying to ignore the ugly old bat on guard duty.

'I know your sort!' she hissed from her rickety rocking chair. 'Hussy!'

Hussy? Draco rolled his eyes. Good grief.

'Look, lady, _if_ that's what you are, I haven't climbed all these bloody stairs for the pleasure of being insulted by you. I'm waiting for the Head Girl, who invited me, to let me in. So you can quit the insults and try and pretend to be civil, or I will silence you myself.'

The old bat's jowls wobbled like jelly as her mouth fell open with shock. 'In all my years at Hogwarts, I've never been subjected to such rudeness in my life' –

Draco pulled out his wand.

'All right, all right!' she snapped. She crossed her arms and rocked furiously.

Silence.

'You know,' said Draco after a while, 'you won't have to put up with me if you let me in.'

She glared at him.

Then the portrait swung open.

'Ma'am,' said Draco, respectfully tipping an imaginary hat to her as he climbed through.

* * *

Hermione was in the bathroom, wearing two towels, fretting because she knew she was abominably late. What on earth possessed Ron to grab her as she left the dungeons and subject her to a rambling interrogation about Ginny's recent behaviour?

She flushed guiltily. She hadn't spoken to Ginny in a while. What a shit friend she was.

She yanked off the towel covering her wet hair. Shaking it out, she quickly applied some Muggle anti-frizzle serum and stuck a hand out for her –

Oh, blast! Where the hell did she leave her wand?

Aha! Downstairs on the kitchenette bench.

She hurtled out of the bathroom and down the stairs –

'Looking for this?'

A blonde Adonis stood in her Common Room, holding out her wand with a sexy smile.

'Oh!' Hermione grinned and stepped into Draco's arms. 'Don't tell me you got that grouchy old besom eating out of your hand, too?'

'Hardly.' Draco started to pull her close, but stopped. 'Is Zabini in?'

'No. He said he was studying with Nott in the Library.'

'Good.' Draco brought her body in close to his and kissed her upturned mouth.

Each time he saw Hermione, he honestly thought she couldn't look any better. But he had to admit that a damp Hermione with wet hair and surrounded by one teeny, tiny towel was doing wild things to his libido.

Very wild things.

Hermione noticed. She stood on her tip-toes and put her lips to Draco's ear. 'Do you go through most of the day with a hard-on, Mr Malfoy?'

'When I'm around you? Yes. In fact, I haven't yet thanked you for the erection you gave me in the Traumatised First and Second Years Potions tutorial.' He nipped her earlobe gently and took it into his mouth. 'I could have traumatised them for another reason altogether.'

Hermione closed her eyes and trembled. 'Surely a punishment would be more appropriate?'

'Dear gods, woman, don't tempt me,' he said softly. He sought her mouth again.

Draco pressed her shapely, towel-clad body up hard against his, while she remained on tip-toe and ran her hands through his hair. Their kiss seemed endless.

Eventually, Hermione pulled away from Draco, breathing hard. Her lips were beautifully swollen. 'Upstairs,' she got out.

Draco scooped her into his arms and headed to her bedroom.

* * *

'It's your turn.'

Draco pretended to sigh. 'I just had my turn.'

Hermione smiled ferally. 'I've only got one item of clothing on. And it's not even clothing.'

Draco looked down at himself. He was wearing shoes, socks, trousers, underwear and his tie. Without the shirt. Hermione told him to leave the tie on.

He shook his head and smirked at her. 'All right. What's next, Princess?'

'Shoes and socks,' she decided. 'Too unsexy.'

He did as his beautiful girl demanded.

'Is it still my turn?'

'Oh, yes,' she purred. 'I think I'll choose…' She looked him up and down, slowly. 'The trousers.'

Draco smirked again. 'You mean these?' He pointed to his pants.

'Indeed I do.'

He'll get his lovely little witch yet. 'So, I guess I should undo my belt, then?' He slowly pulled the belt through its loop. And stopped.

Hermione's eyes grew darker with arousal.

'Should I remove the belt?' he asked in a low voice.

'Yes,' she breathed.

He undid his belt, and pulled it through the loops of his trousers with agonising slowness, not taking his eyes off Hermione. When the belt was free, he dropped it to the floor.

Her pulse beat erratically in her throat. He longed to put his mouth on it.

He took a step towards her. 'Should I undo the fastener?'

She nodded, her eyes wide.

He did so, and his trousers settled a little lower on his hips. He left one hand on the waistband, waiting.

'Please,' she whispered.

'The zipper, then?'

'You're driving me crazy, Draco!'

He raised an arrogant eyebrow, and stood before her where she sat on the bed. He slowly unzipped his trousers, then pulled them down, together with his boxer briefs. He couldn't wait any longer.

Hermione stared at his proud erection, only millimetres from her face. She looked up into Draco's burning eyes. She took him by his tie and pulled him down for her kiss.

He continued the momentum and laid her down across the bed, settling over her, never breaking the kiss.

Merlin knows when he vanished Hermione's towel. She certainly couldn't tell you.

* * *

'Why do I need a safe word?'

Draco dropped his face onto the duvet. Are Gryffindor women always this bloody stubborn?

Looking at her again, he gently said 'Because, love of my life, it's your first time. It's probably going to be uncomfortable, but there's the possibility that it could be painful. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But I might not be able to tell from your body language or moans. A safe word means that I know immediately that you're in pain; and I'll stop.'

Hermione's face softened. The selfless, intuitive side of Draco still took getting used to. But it was lovely to see. And she loved to see it when he was with her. 'Okay,' she said. She thought for a second. 'How about 'Snape'?'

Draco shuddered. 'I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.'

Snape must be a dark wizard, he thought. How could the very mention of the Professor's name make his erection decide it had better things to do than be erect? Such as not be erect?

She giggled. 'Oops.' She tried again. 'Okay. How about' –

'No Professors' names, please,' he begged her.

She looked at him. 'Fine. How about 'Siamese'?'

He tried it out in his head. Draco Junior had no objections. 'Done.' He settled onto the bed and pulled Hermione on top of him. 'Come here,' he whispered over her lips.

* * *

He'd been thinking about it ever since he had her in his bed.

Screw that.

Long before he had her in his bed.

Her taste. Her mind-blowing, sanity-eroding taste that could have come from either heaven or hell. Just one sip from her soaking core, and he'd die a happy man.

He'd coaxed Hermione into a sitting position above him, rubbing over his aching cock. Initially a little uncertain, her movements were jerky and stiff, but as she grew to enjoy rubbing over him, her body relaxed into flowing movements. Right now, he stared in awe at the sight of her high breasts bobbing as she ground her hips on him, her damp hair flung back as she moaned her need.

Her juices were coating his cock. He was nearly insane with desire.

'Come up here, love,' he whispered, grasping her by her hips.

She crawled along him, flicking her tongue over his lips. 'Where?'

'Here.'

She shrieked as Draco grasped her waist and pulled her up so that her glistening core was suspended over his waiting mouth.

'No, Draco' –

'Shh, love, it's okay,' he said. This was agony! Her pussy was so, so close. 'Do you trust me?'

Hermione gripped the bedhead, her cheeks rosy red. 'I – I do.'

'Use the safe word if you don't feel comfortable.'

'Uh-huh,' she said shakily.

Draco moved Hermione's body those last few centimetres, then lowered her pussy onto his lips and tongue.

He plunged his tongue straight into her hot, wet channel, sending Hermione into a paroxysm of bliss.

Oh, dear Gods. She tasted even better than he remembered.

He feasted on her cunt and lips, ravenously drinking her in. Hermione's moans grew, and her hips bucked over his face erratically. He anchored her by wrapping his hands around her thighs, pulling her down. He had to taste every single part of her core.

'D-Draco,' Hermione whispered on a sob, 'I – oh God' –

His beautiful woman was teetering on the edge. He flicked a thumb over her clitoris, back and forth –

'Omigod, Draco!' Hermione screamed, and convulsed over his face. His mouth was flooded with her come. He swallowed her juices ravenously until he'd had his fill. Then with shaking hands, he gently moved her back down his body and into his arms.

Wow.

* * *

After their heartrates settled, Draco continued to make to love to Hermione. He'd made her come once more when he slid his middle finger into her core, scoping out the landscape, so to speak. She felt perfect. She _was_ perfect.

And now it was time.

Draco raised himself over her spread body, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes were wild with need, but her bottom lip – caught in her teeth – betrayed her nervousness.

He aligned his cock at her entrance and bent down to kiss her slowly, threading a hand through her curls.

'I love you so much,' he whispered.

'Oh my God,' Hermione whispered in a moan. 'I love you.'

He sheathed himself inside her.

* * *

Nirvana.

Heaven.

Wherever.

He didn't care. The most perfect place in the world was right here, inside this woman. Hot. Wet. Tight. Thrumming with the vestiges of her last orgasm.

He looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in a soundless gasp. 'You okay, love?' he asked.

Tears started to seep from her eyes.

'Oh, shit!' Draco braced himself and prepared to pull out, until he was stopped by her hand gripping his arm.

'Don't you fucking dare move!' she said fiercely.

For the first time since Godric knew how long, Draco didn't know what to do. She was crying, and it broke his heart. But she told him not to move.

'Use the safe word, love,' he whispered shakily.

'Oh, hang the bloody safe word!' Hermione cried. She opened her eyes. 'Draco,' she whispered, 'you feel so bloody amazing inside me. I'm not crying from the pain.'

Draco's erratic heartbeat began to co-operate again.

'I just need to get used to this.'

He nodded. 'Take all the time you need, love,' he said. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Hermione giggled. Then another tear fell.

Draco held her tight.

* * *

In a little while, Hermione moved her hips. Draco's cock moved by default inside her.

It was bliss.

It was torture.

Draco pulled back a little to search Hermione's face. 'You sure?' he asked.

'Fuck me,' she whispered.

He pulled out of her tight channel, then conducted a measured thrust inside. Her body arced off the bed, and her moan was desperate. He prayed to some unknown deity, withdrew and this time thrust inside her to the hilt.

She begged for more on a broken scream.

He picked up the pace, gritting his teeth. He was so close to coming. Merlin! Soon he'd have to resort to counting backwards from one hundred in multiples of seven. Something he hadn't needed to do since he was sixteen.

Still keeping up his pace, he leaned over Hermione and whispered in her ear. 'I want you to come, love,' he breathed. 'I want to feel your cunt gripping my cock.'

'Draco…' she moaned.

'You can feel it building, can't you?' he whispered. 'I can feel the temperature of your skin rising. You're so wet, love. Can you hear my cock as it moves inside you?'

'Omigod, what are you doing to me?' Hermione sobbed, her eyes completely unseeing as she focussed on the building storm within her.

Draco sped up. 'I want to come inside you,' he whispered. 'Only you. Always you.'

Hermione's body bowed off the bed. Her head flung back, she screamed her soundless scream as she came. Her pussy gripped Draco's cock like a vice as he gave in to his body and orgasmed, filling Hermione's heated pussy with his come.

* * *

 **Up next – will Pansy find out what's been going on?**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who's still following my little story, and for all your reviews and favourites and follows! Thanks to the hundreds, literally hundreds, of guest reviewers. My head has swelled to ridiculous proportions from your lovely comments! Some of you are reading my other stories too, which also makes me very happy. xx**

 **This chapter contains Dramione lemons, and a Blaise x Ginny lemon. I hope the Blinny thingy won't cause too much angst. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione Jean Granger had had sex.

And she _liked_ it!

What does a diligent student do when she discovers something she knew nothing about before?

Well!

I should have thought _that_ answer would be obvious.

* * *

Dawn was knocking on the door when Hermione slowly woke. She stretched, and winced – her thighs were a little sore, after being manoeuvred into gymnastic-like positions a few hours ago. As for her core…

Turning onto her back and closing her eyes, she ran her fingers gently through her curls and swirled around her clitoris. Mmm. Oh gods, that felt rather good. She licked her fingers and circled them around, and around…

'Starting without me?' A voice whispered in her ear.

She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at her lover.

It was so odd. The more ruffled Draco got, the sexier he became. Quite a feat, considering that he looked like sin dipped in silver - even in a school uniform.

This was what Hermione had deduced so far:

Draco in clothes = bloody gorgeous.

Draco unclothed = so sexy it must be bordering on illegal.

Draco awakening from sleep, with ruffled hair, drowsy eyes, light stubble and a crooked smile, just for her = toe-tingling-ly orgasmic.

'You seem to have flipped a switch inside me,' she said.

Draco drew her hair away from her face and gently kissed her. 'Really?' he murmured. 'What switch would this be?'

'The nymphomaniac switch, apparently,' she smirked. Her hand wandered down his body until it encountered his hard, solid erection. He hissed.

'Oh gods, what?' she cried.

'Cold hand!'

Hermione fixed him with one of his own looks. 'Maybe you should warm it, then,' she suggested.

He picked up her hand, kissed it and covered it with his own larger one. Then he moved both hands to between her legs. Under Draco's guidance, her own hand stroked her clitoris and folds.

Hermione trembled. Now that she knew what to expect, she could barely wait. She turned her head and looked at him. In the dawn's rose light, his eyes glittered, putting her in his thrall.

One of his slender fingers guided one of hers inside. She tensed, but she wasn't too tender.

'You okay?' he whispered.

'Please give me more…'

He followed her finger inside with his own, stretching her. Hermione moaned, bucking against the welcome intrusion.

'Trust me?' he whispered.

'Yes…'

Withdrawing his hand, he pulled her on to her side so that he spooned her from behind. He raised one of her legs with his knee. His erection lay at the apex of her thighs, below her wet core. He moved his hips, and Hermione moaned when his cock rubbed against her clitoris. Instinctively she clamped her thighs together and rocked hard against him.

Hermione's orgasm took her by surprise. It seemed to come from almost nowhere. Draco held her while her body trembled and a broken cry tore from her throat.

'That was lovely,' Draco murmured. 'But that's not quite what I had in mind.'

Angling Hermione's hips towards him, he slowly entered her pussy from behind, keeping an ear out for any sharp intakes of breath for pain.

Instead, she moaned in desire.

When he had slowly sunk himself into her, he kissed her shoulder and touched her earlobe with his tongue. 'We're not going fast, love,' he whispered. But gods, he'd have to restrain himself. Her pussy fit his cock perfectly, and the urge to clamp her pelvis still while he surged in and out of her made his balls tingle ominously.

Hence the reason why they were going slow. It was either that or come after one stroke.

Draco had his pride, after all.

He leaned on an elbow, watching Hermione's face while he held her hip with the other and started to thrust in and out, slowly, gently – then harder, in measured strokes. Hermione keened and gripped the bedsheets so she could thrust back into him.

Draco's measured movements deteriorated. She felt too damn good. Her breasts moved in sync to her hip movements, and his hand left her hip to grasp one, rolling her achingly hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione's body spasmed, and she pushed her beautiful bum up hard against his body.

'Oh, gods,' he gritted, closing his eyes.

'Make me come, Draco,' she begged on a shuddered breath. 'I'm so close, I want to feel you…'

He tried to stop it, but it was too late. When he heard her words, his orgasm pulsed from his balls almost without warning. With a frustrated growl, Draco came, emptying himself deep inside her. As he flooded her body, Hermione followed, throwing her head back and making her odd soundless scream – something Draco had never before encountered, but with Hermione it was hella sexy.

Draco curled her into his arms while their breathing returned to normal. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, inhaling, tasting her scent. By his standards, his inability to last was unforgiveable. Luckily Hermione wasn't too far behind him.

He sighed to himself. There was nothing for it but to practice with his bewitching witch, every damn day.

As she fell asleep in his arms, Draco watched the sun rise and prayed that this would last forever.

Prayed very hard indeed.

* * *

The walk of shame wasn't something Draco did very often – until Hermione, he mostly bedded girls in his bedroom, and left them to find their own way home. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he flushed with embarrassment, berating himself mentally for being such a twat.

And he called himself Merlin's gift to witchkind.

He let himself into the Slytherin Common Room. Nearly there.

Suddenly, a door slammed nearby. It came from the Seventh Years' bedrooms.

On instinct, Draco twirled his wand around himself and cast a _Disillusionment_ charm. Maybe he was over-reacting and it was a classmate. But he was the only one of his peers that regularly got up at stupid o'clock in the morning. And he was already up.

He stood still and watched as a rather angry and dishevelled-looking Harry Potter stormed out of the Seventh Years' rooms, across the Common Room floor, and out of the dungeon.

Potter? Who was he sleeping with, then?

Draco crept down the hall, listening at each door. Nothing but silence or heinous snores came from door after door.

Except Parkinson's. There he heard the distinct sound of something fragile and expensive being hurled against a wall, followed by a few filthy words.

Draco headed back to his room.

Interesting…

* * *

 **A few evenings later**

Sitting in Slytherin's Common Room, running an eye over his homework before he could ditch and sneak up to the Head Dorm, Draco watched a pair of long, slender black-tighted legs materialise before him.

'Hello, stranger.'

He followed the legs up with his eyes. 'Ms Parkinson,' he greeted.

She sat next to him on the couch, throwing an innocent Third Year off it first. 'It's been absolutely ages since I've seen you,' she purred, crossing one sexy leg over the other. 'It's almost as if you hardly live here anymore.'

Draco smiled grimly. 'I assure you, no-one else will have me.'

She laughed, then leaned forward. ' _I_ would have you,' she whispered by his ear.

Draco tensed.

'Tell me, Malfoy,' Pansy continued. Her warm breath in his ear made his traitorous cock sit up and take notice. 'Can I have you? Yet?'

Oh, hell. Oh, hell no.

There was no way this hellcat was getting her claws into his and Hermione's relationship. Not while there was breath in his body.

He affected a sigh and leaned back against the couch. A posture of defeat. 'Hermione's one hell of a tough nut to crack,' he said quietly, very aware of the other students in near proximity.

Pansy tutted in sympathy. 'Well, I hope someone's preventing you from catching a case of the blue balls,' she said.

'You're too kind.'

'And your other project? How does that progress?'

It took a precious second for Draco to work out what she meant. 'It's coming along,' he said thoughtfully. 'The Weaselette's an argumentative little puss, so the lessons are taking longer than originally thought.'

'Have you popped her cherry yet?'

That was it. Draco had had enough of this conversation. He turned to her with ice in his eyes. 'Don't presume to tell me how to seduce someone, Parkinson.'

But Pansy was not intimidated. She stared coolly back at him. 'You'd better not be lying to me, Malfoy.'

'As if I would bother.'

Pansy stared at him with narrow eyes; then nodded carelessly. 'I suppose I must expect a perfectionist to take more time than what the standard gauche, pimply teenager would.'

She got up, then turned and pointed a playful finger at him. 'I expect results, Malfoy,' she sang. Then her eyes turned feline-like. 'And I always get what I want.'

Draco watched her skip away. The Malfoy smirk decorated his face, but inside, he felt sick.

How many people will be ruined if Pansy finds everything out?

Hermione.

Ginny.

Zabini.

Nott.

Brown.

The Weasel, and possibly Potter by association.

Last, and certainly least: himself.

What a fucking mess.

He stood up, and headed to Professor Snape's rooms. He needed to ask a favour.

* * *

'Boo!'

Ginny shrieked and jumped a mile high. Turning around furiously, she relaxed slightly when she saw it was Blaise, standing at the entrance to the girls' Quidditch locker room with a grin on his devilishly handsome face.

She scowled and lowered her wand. 'You're lucky I didn't hex you.'

'Sorry, babe.' He looked around. 'Is it safe for me to come in?'

'Well, there's no-one else here, if that's what you mean.'

Blaise sauntered into the locker room, and sat next to Ginny, who was struggling with removing her protective gear. 'Here, let me.'

Ginny leaned back and watched Blaise as he worked. She'd stayed late after practice, ostensibly to rehearse some new moves Harry had taught them. But in reality, she needed to run off excess energy. Not that she begrudged Draco's bailing out on her, it was just that he'd taught her too well, and she was horny almost all the time.

Now her boyfriend was kneeling at her feet, with his hands on her legs… the boyfriend who won't touch her…

It was so fucking UNFAIR!

She sniffled, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Blaise was beside her in a second, with his hands on her upper arms. 'Are you all right?' he asked, worried. 'Are you injured? Did you fall?'

Oh, gods! The last of her resolve crumbled under Blaise's kind concern, and she burst into tears.

'Hey, hey,' Blaise murmured, folding her into his arms, grubby Quidditch uniform and all. 'Please don't cry, hon. Just tell me where it hurts.'

With tears still falling down her face, she pulled back and looked him in the eye fiercely. She pointed to her heart. 'Here, Blaise!' she wailed. 'It hurts here.'

Blaise turned pale. 'I don't understand…'

'I want to be with you!' Ginny sobbed. 'I want to be with you so much it's driving me insane! I get that you don't want to sleep with me. But we can be intimate in other ways, can't we? Or do you really not find me attractive at all? Is it my breasts? Are they too small? Or is it my' –

Blaise silenced her with his mouth. He crashed his lips hard against hers, tasting the salt from her tears. He pulled her body into his and ravenously devoured her lips, her tongue, her mouth. She did the same to him. By the time they pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, and both were aroused.

'Don't tease me,' Ginny whispered.

Blaise took her hand and pushed it against his clothed erection. She gasped. He placed his hand on top of hers and ground his cock against them.

With his spare hand, he held her by the chin. 'Of course I find you attractive,' he gritted. 'I've been masturbating to the image of you every single fucking day we've been together.'

If Ginny wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. Trembling, she stood before him. Before she had time to think herself out of it, she removed her Quidditch jumper. Then her bra.

She waited before him. Vulnerable.

Blaise's hand was still on his crotch. His pupils dilated, and he stared hungrily at her body.

'Come here,' he whispered.

She did, and cried out in pleasure-pain when he tugged one of her nipples into his hot, wet mouth.

* * *

They headed to the showers, shedding their clothing with every kiss.

Blaise's eyes were hard when he removed his underwear and Ginny saw, for the first time, what Pansy was talking about. His erection was so large that it hung down under its own weight. She sidled up to him and grasped his cock. It was difficult to put her hand around the base. She trembled.

Blaise leaned against the tiled wall with his eyes closed. 'In the dorms you don't get a lot of privacy,' he said quietly. 'The other blokes would stare at it in awe, or envy. I was stupidly quite proud. Until I tried to have sex.'

Ginny worked her hand along him, spitting on it for lubrication.

He shuddered at the sensation. 'The only girl I've been able to easily fuck is Pansy. I just don't know what to do, love. I want to make love to you, but you'll be too small.'

She stood up, and brought his face down to her for her kiss.

'I'm sure there's other things we can try,' she said. 'Come and have a shower with me.'

* * *

Ginny watched the water slide down Blaise's black flesh and almost came just from the sight. He was stronger-built than Draco, and the lights from the shower room reflected off his delicious skin. The water sparkled as it travelled down his chest, over his abdominal muscles, and sluiced over his cock.

She broke away from their hungry kiss. 'Touch my clit, please,' she begged.

Blaise's eyes bore into hers as he pressed a finger to her button and rubbed it back and forth. Despite the water, it was slick with her arousal. Gods. He was as hard as stone. He needed release soon, or he'd explode.

'Come for me, Ginny,' he hissed in her ear.

Ginny wailed in release and clamped her thighs together, trapping Blaise's hand. She shuddered and convulsed over it. He felt come gush from her core. 'Fucking hell,' he groaned into her wet hair.

Ginny sank to the shower floor after he pulled away. Blaise stroked his cock with the hand that was between her legs, slick with her come. He loved the way she looked under the water, with her red hair streaming and a look of absolute bliss on her face.

He beat away at his cock, having worked it into a brutal rhythm. Ginny opened her eyes and crawled to him. Blaise watched her hungrily.

Ginny moved slightly to one side of his cock and dragged her wet tongue over one of his heavy balls.

'Merlin's tits, woman!' Blaise yelped. He stroked himself impossibly harder. She opened her mouth wide and engulfed his testicle, swirling it around her tongue, while she gently massaged the other.

'Fuck, oh gods, fuck, Ginny…' Blaise moaned.

She let his sac drop from her mouth and massaged both with her hands. 'Come in my mouth, Blaise,' she whispered. 'I want to taste you…'

That did it. He was gone. With an agonising groan, he held his cock steady as rope after creamy rope of come shot from his cock. Some of it landed on Ginny's face, but she kept her mouth and tongue open, catching Blaise's ejaculate. It filled her mouth, and she swallowed it down, again and again.

Blaise's legs were rubbery, and he joined Ginny on the shower floor.

He gathered her into a hug, and they sat under the warm water for a while.

'That was intense,' said Blaise.

'Yeah.'

He turned her face to his and kissed her deeply. 'Now, my little firebrand,' he said lightly, 'you will tell me where you learned to do that.'

* * *

'…L-I-C-I-S.' In bed, Draco lay on his stomach, while Hermione traced letters onto his bare back. He frowned. 'That's a long one.'

'Yes, it is,' replied Hermione smugly, running her hand over his shapely arse.

'You're distracting me, woman,' he growled lazily.

One of her fingers brushed his balls.

She gasped when Draco, with his Seeker-honed reflexes, immediately clamped her wrist in his hand. 'Now you're definitely cheating.'

'Oh, all right!' She kissed his fingers, and he released her. She lay down next to him. 'Give up?' she asked, eyes sparkling.

'Not just yet…' He closed his eyes and thought a bit more. _'Felix Felicis?'_

'Oh, damn!' Hermione groused playfully. 'I bet you knew it the whole time, too.'

Draco smirked. 'Now it's my turn.'

Hermione settled onto her stomach. 'Do your worst.'

He propped himself up on an elbow, thought for a bit, then slowly traced some letters onto Hermione's back with his finger. 'J-E-T-A-I-M-E.'

'You're cheating,' mumbled Hermione.

'I assure you I am not!'

'You are! That's not even a word.'

'Yes it is.' Draco slapped her playfully on her bum, and she yelped. 'Now stop stalling.'

If there was anything Hermione hated in this world, it was losing. She called on the power of her considerable brain, but try as she might, she could not work it out. The more frustrated she got, the more Draco grinned, refusing to offer even the smallest titbit of a clue.

Finally, and a little sulkily, Hermione had to concede.

'It's French,' Draco admitted. _'Je t'aime._ I love you.'

Hermione's body thrilled to hear the words. But then –

She sat up and socked him with a pillow. 'You cheating bastard!' she shrieked, laughing.

Draco grabbed a pillow to block her assault. 'I did not! There was no restriction placed on the languages we could use!'

'Argh!' Hermione launched herself at him.

Eventually Draco alleviated Hermione of her feathery weapon and covered her with his body. Pinning her arms above her head, he claimed her mouth. Hermione returned his kiss, and before long, they found themselves making love.

Draco steadily moved in and out of Hermione. He didn't really want to leave her hot, wet cunt, it felt so fucking good. But as he watched a myriad of emotions flit over her beautiful face, he whispered 'want to try a new position?'

'Oh, gods….' She moaned. 'Yes, yes…'

He slowly withdrew from her, much to their mutual disappointment, and hopped off her bed. He swung Hermione around so that she was on her hands and knees, her glistening core spread open, taunting him.

Draco ran his hands over her bum and lower spine. 'If it hurts, tell me,' he urged.

'Oh gods, I need you inside me,' she moaned.

He slapped her arse, a little harder than before.

She wailed. 'Yes, yes! All right, yes!'

He brushed his palm over the red mark he left behind. Then he applied his thumbs to each of her glistening wet folds, and gently parted them. Hermione shuddered in ecstasy. He aligned his slick and throbbing cock outside her entrance; then surged in.

Hermione threw her head back and silently screamed as her orgasm hit her. Draco held her hips and fucked her mercilessly, while her cunt convulsed over him. She came in waves, and her pussy grew wetter and wetter. Her come inched down her thighs and wet his balls. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to stay focussed, and soon he tasted blood. Eventually, Hermione's shaking arms failed her, and her upper body fell onto the bed.

Draco paused and leaned over her, pulling her hair back from her face. 'Good?' he whispered.

'Oh. My. Bloody. Gods.' Each word was forced out between panted breaths.

'We're not done yet,' Draco said.

She tried to raise her body up from the bed but her arms were spaghetti. 'It's okay, stay where you are,' he replied. 'You'll like this angle.'

With that, Draco resumed his strokes. Hermione felt wantonly sexy. Here she was, with her legs spread, her arse on display, while a beautiful man rammed his cock into her. He whispered to her, telling her how good she felt, how beautiful she looked, how he made her feel. She inched a hand between her legs and rubbed her clitoris. Omigod. How can something so enrapturing actually get better?

'I see what you're doing, naughty girl,' Draco whispered. 'Can't wait until you come over my cock again?'

'Can you?' she taunted breathlessly, and he had to admit she had a point.

Then she did something that surprised him. She opened the fingers that were stimulating her clitoris into a 'V' sign and slid them over her labia. His cock surged past her wet fingers every time he stroked in and out, and gods, it felt like bliss. Already his strokes started to falter in rhythm.

He wet one of his own fingers in her juices and painted the rim of Hermione's arse with it. She jumped with surprise, but soon she was pushing back against him, begging for more.

He re-wet his finger. 'You will use the safe word,' he said shortly.

'I will,' she moaned. 'Please, please do it.'

Slowly, Draco breached the entrance to Hermione's arse.

'Gods yes, more, Draco,' she begged.

Keeping up his strokes, he sank his finger slowly into her resisting body, encouraging her with words and kisses. She was sobbing incoherently, but she didn't say the safe word, and her cunt filled with wetness.

'How does it feel?' Draco gritted.

'Like – like I'm totally filled up,' she gasped. It feels so damn good – I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come' –

'No you won't,' Draco ordered with gritted teeth. 'You don't come until I tell you.'

'No, please, Draco, I need' –

'Not until I tell you,' he repeated.

Over her sobbing objections, he sped up and rammed his steel-hard cock into her pussy, turning slowly insane from the sensation. He moved his finger in and out of her arse too, but at a slower rate – he didn't want to hurt her. He built up his orgasm until his cock was practically about to explode – then he stopped.

He leaned over Hermione and into her ear, he breathed 'Come.'

He howled in ecstasy as her pussy clamped itself around his cock and rippled with her orgasm. 'Fuck, Hermione!' At last, he let himself come, emptying everything he had into her hot, wet channel.

With his heart racing, he gently withdrew from her pussy and arse. _Scourgifying_ them and casting a contraceptive spell, as always, he slowly lowered himself on to the bed next to her.

He couldn't recall the next few hours.

* * *

In the early morning, Hermione woke, and was surprised to find that the other side of her bed was empty. It was a little disturbing how quickly she got used to sharing a bed with Draco.

She sat up, and saw that he hadn't left altogether – he was sitting on her window seat with his eyes closed.

'Draco?'

'Yes, love?'

'Oh! I thought you had fallen asleep over there.'

He smiled wanly. 'No. Just thinking.'

He sounded odd. 'Can I help?' she offered.

This time, his smile was a little sadder. 'It's about you, in a way.'

Something cold touched Hermione's heart. 'What do you mean?'

He opened his silver eyes and looked at her. 'I don't want people to know about us,' he said. 'Yet.'

Hermione nodded. 'I can understand that. People can be prejudiced about our Houses, and you do have a little bit of a reputation that might be challenging to overcome.'

Draco smirked at half its usual power, then he sobered. 'Shall we play it by ear?' he suggested.

She nodded again. 'Sure.' She pulled the bedsheet aside. 'Will you come to bed?'

Draco's eyes flashed. 'Nothing would give me greater pleasure.'

In bed, he curled up behind her and wracked his brains, trying to think of a way to keep Pansy's toxic claws the hell away from this relationship.

* * *

 **A/N: Just a gentle word of warning – things will start to get very dramatic from next chapter on.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This chapter's relatively short by comparison, but there is a Dramione lemon in it. It's the scene-setting 'gathering of the storm' before it hits in Chapter 24.**

 **Thanks so much for reading and of course, your lovely reviews. Enjoy!**

* * *

Days went by, and Draco couldn't think of anything, short of obliviating Pansy, that would get her off his back.

He could tell Hermione the truth…

No. Not an option. After he'd catalogued all his sins, he couldn't even forgive himself. There was no way Hermione could be expected to.

He ended up doing his best to avoid Pansy, without looking like he was avoiding her. It was an almost impossible task, since they were in the same House, ate at the same table, and were in many of the same classes together.

He'd developed a pounding headache after four continuous days of Duck and Dodge, and decided to have a bath in the Prefect's Bathroom to try and relax.

'Oh, gods yes,' he and his body sighed as he lowered himself into the cavernous, steamy bath. He dunked himself underwater, then stood back up, pushing back his wet hair, sending the water streaming down his back. Making his way to an underwater bench, he sat on it, leaned against the bath's edge and closed his eyes.

Hermione's nude image immediately formed in his mind. No need for his imagination to enlarge breasts, plump up lips or trim pubic curls – she was utterly perfect as she was. He wished she was with him, but she had Infirmary duties. He snarled silently. That Ravenclaw boy had better be attending to any 'sprained groins' that presented for inspection.

He felt like both the luckiest man in the world and the shittiest bastard on the planet.

His cock swelled and hardened as he thought back to their time together the previous evening.

* * *

 _They were studying together in the Library, tackling a seemingly impossible shared assignment for Ancient Runes. Madam Pince had already visited their table, instructing them to shut their yaps in general and to stop swearing in particular._

 _Draco gave her the fingers behind the retreating librarian's black back. Hermione smothered a smile._

 _'You know,' she whispered to Draco, who'd stealthily moved his chair closer so that now they were sitting thigh to thigh, 'I think we might be missing a reference book. I wonder if Professor Babbling forgot to assign it to us?'_

 _Draco, who had placed a long, elegant finger under her skirt and was drawing it slowly up her thigh, wasn't quite listening. 'Huh?'_

 _Hermione clamped her hand on top of his finger. 'Someone might see.'_

 _'No-one's around. Relax, I'm keeping an eye out.' Hermione's skin felt like velvet. He closed his eyes, then fought to concentrate. 'You were saying?'_

 _'Well, I recall seeing some similar formulae in a book called 'Runic Civilisations of Mesopotamia', but it's not listed as a reference.'_

 _'Who cares? Let's get this book and copy from it anyway.'_

 _Hermione rolled her eyes. 'It's in the Restricted Section.'_

 _Draco looked blank. 'So?'_

 _'So, we don't have permission to go in.'_

 _Draco blinked. 'Oh, right. You obey rules. I keep forgetting.'_

 _'Yeah, well, I kind of have to, as Head Girl.'_

 _'Hang on.' Draco narrowed his eyes. 'How do you know what the book contains if it's in the Restricted Section?'_

 _Hermione turned pink. 'Well, I may have looked at it when I wasn't Head Girl.'_

 _Draco grinned. 'I leave the decision up to you. Meanwhile, I'm content to sit here and explore…'_

 _Hermione's quill trembled as Draco's finger slid further up her thighs, culminating at her –_

 _'Bloody hell, woman, where are your panties?' Draco whispered, barely restraining himself from exclaiming out loud._

 _'Did I forget to put them on?' Hermione wondered, eyes wide. 'Oops, silly me.'_

 _Draco stood up, his robe falling conveniently over his hard-on. 'Come on.'_

 _Hermione looked up. 'Where are we going?'_

 _'Restricted Section. Now.' He took her hand._

 _'But – we can't' –_

 _Draco looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'We can, and we will. Right now.'_

 _Over Hermione's soft protests, Draco led her through the maze of the Library to the Restricted Section, keeping an eye out for trouble, a.k.a. Madam Pince. Fortune was on their side, however, and he saw her in the distance, berating some hapless First Year for bringing a melting chocolate frog into her sacred domain. Her back was to them. They passed a couple of comatose Fifth Years and some Slytherins who were busily engaged in defacing their reference books. No-one noticed them._

 _They hopped over the rope that demarcated the Restricted Section, and Draco hustled Hermione down the many rows of dimly-lit bookshelves._

 _'But Runes books are kept over there!' Hermione protested, pointing an arm out to the right._

 _'Don't care,' he gritted._

 _Finally, they arrived at an alcove that stored a tower of books on its three sides. Confused, but curious, since it was books, Hermione stepped into the alcove and pored over the titles._

 _'I can't see anything that - oomph!'_

 _She found herself pushed up against the bookshelves. One of Draco's hands was in her hair, which he wrapped around his fist, and the other was clamped over her mouth. She could feel his insistent erection pressing into her lower back._

 _Draco's lips were at her ear. 'You should have worn panties,' he murmured._

 _Why? She wanted to know, but she couldn't ask. Her heart pounded._

 _'I'm going to fuck you, right here,' he rasped. 'In public, where anyone could discover us. What do you think of that?'_

 _He took his hand away from his mouth. Hermione fought for breath. She was scared… and exhilarated._

 _Draco nipped her neck, near her pulse. 'Yes, love?' he asked. 'Or no?'_

 _'Why don't you check and see?' she gritted, bracing her arms against the bookshelf._

 _Draco snaked his hand under her skirt and swore silently when his fingers encountered her dripping wet core. 'Does being fucked in public turn you on?' he asked._

 _'Being fucked in public by you turns me on,' she whispered._

 _'Merlin, you'll be the death of me one day,' he groaned. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his engorged cock. Pre-come gathered at the tip and he smeared it around the head with his thumb. 'Last chance to say no.'_

 _She pushed her bottom up against him. 'Fuck me. Now.'_

 _As my lady pleases._

 _He bent her over a little at her hips, angling them, and pushed up her skirt. Her perfect, round bottom displayed itself. His mouth watered. He lined his cock up at her glistening opening, then surged in._

 _Hermione's breath left her and Draco clamped his hand back over her mouth. He established a brutal rhythm and put his lips to her ear._

 _'I'm going to fuck you hard and fast, woman,' he whispered. 'When you come, I want complete silence from you. I just want to feel your delicious cunt gripping my cock as your orgasm takes over your body. I want your come dripping down your legs.'_

 _Hermione felt her breasts heave with each brutal thrust. When he talked dirty to her, she became his slave._

' _I want you to look at those books in front of you and whisper their titles out to me. And keep doing so until your pussy spasms and bathes my cock in your come. Can you do that?'_

 _Hermione nodded frantically, her arms braced against the bookshelf, absorbing every one of his thrusts._

 _He took his hand from her mouth and gripped her hips, angling her to his satisfaction._

 _'F-Forsythe's Illuminatory T-Transgressions.'_

 _'Good girl. Continue.'_

 _'Um – The Weird and Wonderful World of M-Motion Picture Science. Why would this be' –_

 _'Next,' snapped Draco._

 _'Oh, gods. I, um – D-Dark Magic During the F-French Revolution Draco I can't do this' –_

 _'Yes, you can.'_

 _'I'm going to come,' she moaned in a whisper and Draco knew she was right. Her pussy was starting to spasm, teasing his aching cock even more than usual by grasping it for the briefest amount of time before letting go._

 _'Draco!'_

 _Hermione's whole body shook with the force of the orgasm as it soared through her. Draco bit his own lip hard to keep from crying out as the bliss of his orgasm shot through his cock. His come pulsed into her body._

* * *

Coming to, he realised he'd been stroking his cock in response to the memory. His balls felt tight, and he knew he was close. 'Gods,' he breathed, relishing the upcoming sensation of release. He sped up –

'Want some help with that?' a feminine voice said.

'Fucking hell!' Draco roared and shot up from the bath, sending water everywhere. Not caring that his erection was on full display, he pointed to the door with his finger and yelled 'Get the fuck out, Parkinson!'

Pansy looked hungrily at his cock, not at all fazed by Draco's temper. He sneered at her and plonked back down in the bath with bad grace.

'My, oh my,' Pansy purred, leaning over the bath edge. 'That needs taking care of.'

'Not anymore, it doesn't,' Draco muttered. He glared at her. At least she still had her clothes on this time, thank Merlin for small mercies. 'Say your piece and get the hell out.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'You've been avoiding me.'

Draco didn't bother answering.

'Maybe there's something you don't want to tell me.'

He turned his head and glared as hard as he could at her.

'So I'm just going to ask you this once, Malfoy, and you had better fucking not lie to me.'

Here it was. He braced himself.

'Have you fucked Ginny Weasley?'

Draco ran his wet hands over his face. 'I'll level with you, Parkinson. 'I haven't fucked her. And I will never fuck her.'

Pansy's already pale face turned white. 'Why the hell not?'

'Because I no longer find the act of ruining people's lives worth getting out of bed for.'

She sneered. 'You soft bastard.'

He shrugged, uncaring.

'Dare I presume that you've also lucked out with the Gryffindor Princess? Fancy thinking that a bastard like you would ever be acceptable to a prude like her! And what's even worse?' She pouted. 'Now you'll never have me.'

Burning with rage, Draco slowly got up from the bench and waded through the water towards her. She admired the water shimmering on his muscled arms and abdomen, until those same muscled arms were braced on either side next to her. Then she realised how incredibly angry he was.

'Get this through your psychotic little head, Parkinson,' he seethed. 'I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot wand even if you were the last fucking witch on the planet. You're an evil, selfish cunt, and the day I leave this school and never see your face again will be one of the happiest of my life.'

Pansy glared at him, so angry she couldn't speak.

'Now, get the fuck out of this bathroom.' Draco spat the words through clenched teeth. She needed to leave before he lost it and struck her. He'd never hit a girl in his life, and he didn't want to break his record with this evil little she-snake.

Pansy slowly stood up, straightening her robe. 'You'll keep, Malfoy,' she spat, then turned around and walked out.

Draco curled his hands into fists, fighting himself against punching the crap out of something. He looked up at the mermaid in the breathlessly beautiful stained-glass window overlooking the bath. She stared at him sorrowfully, and a tear ran down her cheek.

* * *

Ginny trudged back to the castle from her Care of Magical Creatures lesson. It was cold, and she wanted to get indoors quickly.

So she was very surprised to discover Pansy Parkinson, well-rugged up against the chill, waiting for her at the top of the path. Ginny's other classmates had already given the Slytherin girl with the sparking eyes a very wide berth.

'Ginny!' Pansy cheered. 'Have you forgotten? We were meant to have afternoon tea together, silly girl! Did Blaise not tell you?'

Ginny boggled. She was almost certain Blaise had not told her. 'Oh!' was the only coherent word she could find.

'Never mind, I've found you now!' Pansy linked arms with the mystified Ginny, and escorted her at a fast clip into the school and down the stairs to Slytherin's Common Room.

Once inside, Pansy found them a cosy nook, away from prying eyes and Extendable Ears, and set about bullying a pot of tea and a selection of sandwiches from the house elves. Ginny stared in awe at the vast room, feeling like a country bumpkin. It was dark, and green, and bloody imposing. She shivered. And cold. Not at all like Gryffindor's Common Room, her home away from home.

A trembling house elf arrived, clutching a tray of piping hot tea and sandwiches. Pansy dismissed him with a flick of her hand, and poured two cups out.

'It's just been ages since we last talked,' Pansy simpered over her cup. 'I just wanted to see how everything was going.' Her eyes narrowed. 'You look a little peaky, dear. Is something wrong?'

Ginny wrapped her cold hands gratefully around her teacup. 'I'm not sure where to start,' she said glumly.

'Why, at the beginning, darling! Tell Aunty Pansy all about it. I'm sure I can help in some way.' Pansy helpfully cast a _Muffliato_ around them.

Ginny dithered. Every one of her Gryffindor friends trusted Pansy as far as they could throw her. And probably further. Yet Pansy had been nothing but supportive to her, even though Ginny was going out with her ex. Considering how Ron was still banging on about losing Lavender to Nott, Pansy was being quite mature. Hermione had become incredibly difficult to locate these days, again, and Ginny missed their chats.

I suppose it won't hurt, she decided.

'The lessons with Draco were… good,' she started lamely. 'Very good. Incredibly good, in fact. And useful. When I convinced Blaise to get naked in the Quidditch showers with me' – she blushed furiously, to Pansy's amusement – 'I did something to him Draco taught me, which Blaise really liked, but apparently wasn't something he expected a virgin to know. And he asked me where I'd learned to do it. That was when I realised that Blaise isn't going to like the fact that I've been learning sex tricks from his best friend. Even if it is for his benefit.' She looked at Pansy, biting her lip. 'Is he?'

Pansy pretended to ponder. 'If I may ask,' she started, 'what was it that you did to Blaise?'

Blushing even more, Ginny mumbled 'I took his balls into my mouth, and massaged them while he stroked his cock.' She sighed. 'And swallowed his come.'

Pansy raised an arch eyebrow. 'I'm surprised at Blaise. Those are rather tame activities, all things considered. Anyway, how did you respond?'

'Well, um, Hermione brings in these Muggle romance novels for the girls in my dorm to read. Some of them are quite raunchy, and descriptive, so I told him that I got the ideas from her books.'

'Did he believe you?'

'I guess so? I don't know. He's been busy lately, he says. He could be avoiding me, though.'

Pansy patted Ginny's knee warmly. 'I think you did the right thing, dear. Despite being with Blaise before you, I really had no idea how old-fashioned he seems to be about these sorts of things. Since I wasn't a virgin, and I could, er, 'accept' him quite easily, this sort of discussion never really cropped up. I'm so sorry, Ginny.'

Ginny shrugged. 'What's done is done.'

'True. But at least you have those novels to proffer as an excuse. I'm sure he would much prefer you read about sex than practiced it on one of his friends.'

They both sipped their tea and nibbled on a sandwich.

'I probably shouldn't ask, but I'm _dying_ to know,' Pansy simpered. 'What's Draco like in bed? For all that he's an arrogant prat, I've heard he's an amazing lover.'

A corner of Ginny's lips turned up. 'Yeah, he is. Both an arrogant prat and an amazing lover.'

Pansy clasped her hands together. 'Oh, I'm so envious! He looks like just the guy that would do his best to make a girl's first time as enjoyable as possible. Was it?'

'Oh. He never took my virginity,' Ginny confessed. 'We had gotten to that point, but…'

'But…?' Pansy prompted.

'He said he'd fallen in love with someone and wanted to stop being a man-slag.'

Silence.

Then Pansy carefully put down her teacup. 'That's so incredibly romantic,' she whispered, pretending to wipe a tear from her tearless eye.

'Yeah, I suppose. I hope it works out for them.'

'Did he say who it was, by chance?'

'No. I asked, but he didn't tell me.'

'Well!' said Pansy. 'I think this calls for a toast.' She wafted her wand, and the cups refilled with tea. She clinked her cup against Ginny's. 'To true love.'

Ginny smiled. 'True love.'

They drank.

* * *

As Ginny headed up to her dorm, she hoped that Draco didn't mind that she'd told Pansy about his mystery girlfriend. He'd not sworn her to secrecy, and she knew very little, anyway.

She was a little surprised, to be honest. She thought that Pansy, being a close friend of his, would have known already. But she didn't seem to have a clue.

Her stomach slowly furled into knots.

* * *

In her bedroom, Pansy paced the floor. She stopped in front of her dressing table mirror and stared at her reflection. Her lips were pale and trembling. Her already pale skin was chalky white. Her dark eyes were wild.

'Draco Lucius fucking Malfoy,' she snarled, 'I told you you'll keep.'

The vase that she flung into the mirror shattered both, sending flakes of porcelain and glass flying around the room.

* * *

 **A/N: It's all on next chapter… brace yourselves!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hello! This is where the story's going to hit a little turbulence, shall we say. Hang on to your hats, and remember: this story will have a happy ending.**

 **Thank you, once again, for your reads and reviews and favourites and follows.**

* * *

Draco paced outside the Charms classroom, getting in the way of the streaming students making a beeline for the Great Hall and all the pleasures that lunch would surely bring.

Harry was one of those students, dreaming hopefully about a meatball sub, when a pale hand stayed his arm. 'Potter. I need to talk to you. Please.'

The 'please' was certainly a surprise, considering its reluctant originator. Harry squinted down the hallway and spied the disappearing robes of Ron, who was loath to let anything get in the way in his pursuit of a good meal.

Looking at Malfoy's pale, set face, Harry figured his own lunch could wait a few minutes. 'What do you want?' he asked neutrally.

Draco leaned against the corridor wall, waiting until the rest of the class had buggered off. Then he looked his Quidditch rival straight in the eye. 'I know you're seeing Parkinson.'

Harry's first instinct was denial. 'You're insane, ferret-face,' he scoffed.

Draco glared at him. 'I saw you leaving her room just after dawn a few days ago,' he said. 'Looking rather hacked off, if I may say.'

Harry sighed. 'So? What of it?'

Draco was blunt. 'I've known her for many years, so believe me when I tell you that she's poison.'

'That's a bit strong, surely' –

'Pansy's every step is calculated and worked out a dozen moves in advance. She has no moral compass. Everything she does is done in order to pursue her own advantage. Including manipulating her lovers.'

'Come off it,' Harry said, albeit a little shakily. 'You're just jealous. She's told me how long you've been chasing after her' –

'Why won't she make your relationship public?' Draco asked.

Harry faltered. 'She says Zabini screwed her over somehow, I'm not sure exactly…' he trailed off.

'She's not made it public because it doesn't suit her to do so,' said Draco quietly.

Harry looked sceptical.

Draco sighed. 'And for the record, I've never chased Parkinson. She just fucks with peoples' heads for fun. She gets off on it.'

He looked down at his shoes, then back at Harry. 'I'm in love with someone, Potter,' he admitted. 'I can't say who it is because Pansy will nail her to the wall.'

Harry looked at him with fresh eyes. He'd never seen Malfoy look this vulnerable.

'Look. If anything happens, remember this conversation. Every word I've said is the truth. For what it's worth.'

Harry nodded slowly. 'Yeah. Okay.'

Draco's vulnerable persona shimmered, and the arrogant prat returned. 'Best go join your Gryffindork mates before they eat everyone out of house and home.'

'Get bent, Malfoy,' Harry said mildly, and strode away.

Draco watched him leave. He knew it wasn't enough to stop Pansy. But it was all he could do without making things exponentially worse.

* * *

 **The next morning**

As was his new habit, Draco left Hermione's room at the crack of dawn and headed back to Slytherin to shower and get a fresh change of clothes.

Just the previous evening, Hermione said, casually, that he could keep his uniform in her wardrobe. If he wanted. There was plenty of room.

Draco drew her into a hug, kissed her and said he'd love to.

In the showers, the only other being he encountered was Theo. They both looked at each other, communicating words that didn't need to be said, since they'd known each other for so damn long. They smiled at each other – properly, no sneers – and went their separate ways.

Back in his room, Draco got ready for the new school day, relieved, at least, that he and Theo were okay again. Maybe it was because of his side-tracked thoughts that he never felt the slight buzz of magic at his door.

He checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure all was up to Malfoy standards. Grabbing his robe, he pulled it on, reached for the doorknob and pulled.

It stayed shut, and Draco, already committed to moving forward, couldn't stop himself from whacking his forehead on the door.

'What the hell?' Draco rattled the doorknob.

It wasn't going anywhere.

Maybe the door had swelled from the damp? One of the unfortunate realities of living under a lake.

But no, the door looked as normal as a door could get.

Slytherin's scrofulous scrotum! he seethed. This was the last thing he needed. He turned to grab his wand off his bedside table –

His wand was not on his bedside table.

He definitely put his wand on the bedside table before he showered.

Draco may have liked to hide it, but he was certainly one of the smartest cookies in Hogwarts at the given time. Before you could say 'Holy treachery, Batman!' he'd figured out that someone had snuck in here while he was showering, nicked his bloody wand, then magically sealed his door shut.

That person even had a name.

His heart started thumping loudly. He forced away his rising panic, refusing to acknowledge it.

Think, Malfoy. You're not just a pretty boy. You're a pretty boy with a brain. Maybe there's another way out of here?

There was a window above his bed. Small, but he could contort his way through, if he broke the glass.

Trouble was, once he broke the glass, the dim and dodgy contents of the Lake would cascade in and probably fill up his room in a matter of minutes, since Pansy – of course it was Pansy, that fucking bitch – probably sealed the door to make it watertight.

And then, without his wand, he'd be nothing but a good-looking, water-logged corpse.

Well. He'd just have to resort to Muggle measures.

He started banging on the door. 'Help! Can anyone hear me? Let me out! Help!'

* * *

It was one of the days when Ginny sat with the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Blaise sat with her, and they ate their breakfast companionably enough, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Parvati, Dean and Seamus nearby. Lavender was sitting with Theo at the Slytherin table.

Ginny cast covert glances at Blaise. He seemed the same as usual. Maybe her guilty conscience had tricked her into thinking he was suspicious of her.

Noticing her glance, Blaise smiled at Ginny and softly kissed her. Ron made an odd sound in his throat, like something had crawled inside but hadn't quite died yet. Ginny gave him the fingers, and smiled back at Blaise.

The sound of flapping owls filled the air. Mail time!

Recipients among the Gryffindor table were Ron and Blaise.

Blaise let go from holding Ginny's fingers, and excused himself while he opened the letter. Ron grabbed a buttery butter knife and hacked open his missive.

'What the fuck?'

Ginny barely caught Blaise's shocked whisper, but his face was ashen. 'What's wrong, babe?' she asked, concerned. She put a hand on his forearm.

Blaise jumped as if he'd been electrocuted, and whipped his arm away from hers. 'Is this true?' he asked, deathly calm. He flung the letter at her.

She picked it up with shaking fingers, and as she read it, the world around her spun, then imploded.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

'WHAT THE FUCK?' roared Ron.

Terrified, Ginny tore her eyes from the filthy letter and screamed as Ron leaped across the table to her. Unaware of what had caused Ron's temper to boil over this time, Harry just managed to stop Ron from wrapping his hands around his sister's throat and choking the life out of her.

'You fucking whore! You fucking, cunting whore!' Ron roared, struggling to reach her while Harry hauled back on his shoulders. Dean and Seamus, wide-eyed and unsure, gave Harry a hand.

Ginny decided that Blaise was the lesser of two evils.

'Blaise, it wasn't like how it's written in here, you have to believe me!' sobbed Ginny, pointing to the poison letter.

Blaise stood up, and looked down at her with stone-cold rage. 'You didn't spend weeks in bed with my best fucking friend while he performed every possible sexual activity with you, except take your virginity?'

The other students in the Hall were transfixed. They had to hand it to Gryffindor; they've been serving up all sorts of entertainment this year!

Ginny drew in a sobbing breath. 'It was meant to make things easier for you,' she cried. 'I know it sounds stupid' –

'You're right there! I've never heard of anything stupider! In what universe would I be happy that you've been whoring yourself with my friend behind my back?' he roared.

'Let me go! I'm gonna kill her!' Ron hollered.

It was two crazies short of bedlam.

Professor McGonagall bore down on them with murder in her eyes.

'Mr Weasley, that will do!' McGonagall slapped Ron with a _Petrificus Totalus_ while she turned to Blaise and said crisply 'I think you should retire to the Slytherin table for the remainder of breakfast, Mr Zabini. There are some announcements coming up that everyone needs to hear. We can discuss your utter lack of decorum later.'

Blaise nodded curtly at the Professor, and strode away, not stopping to look at Ginny, who was sobbing with fright and despair. Hermione gathered her into her arms, shushing her and rocking her gently.

The Hall gradually settled as it accepted that the entertainment was over.

Little did they know.

* * *

Theo and Lavender were the only appalled people at the Slytherin table. Everyone else thought it was a grand morning's entertainment. They watched as Blaise flung himself into a space at the table opposite them.

'Blaise?' Theo asked softly. 'You okay, man?'

Blaise snorted and tossed him the letter while he poured himself a cup of coffee. 'Read that and see for yourself.'

Theo and Lavender read Blaise's letter together.

The blood drained from Theo's face.

* * *

At long fucking last, a nerdy First Year, who wanted to grab his books and get to his first class early, heard Draco's almost hoarse voice and enraged assaults on his door. Upon turning the knob, the door opened easily.

'Thanks, kid,' he said as he hurtled out of the door.

'Um, Mr Malfoy? Your wand was just outside,' squeaked the First Year, holding it up.

'Thanks again,' Draco replied, grabbed it and sprinted through the Common Room and up to the Great Hall. Only one thing was on his mind: Hermione.

* * *

Ginny took advantage of Ron's petrified state to escape to the Girl's Dorm, sobbing blindly. Parvati went with her.

'Ron!' Hermione remonstrated, as he became un-petrified. 'How could you say such horrible things to your sister?'

Ron parked his bum back on the bench, glowering wildly. 'You wanna know, huh? You really wanna know?'

'Just spit it out, for gods' sake.'

Ron gripped the bench with both hands, all the better to prevent himself for launching over the table again. 'My sister has spent the last few weeks in bed with Draco fucking Malfoy!'

Hermione sat still. 'What?' she whispered.

'You ask her! She won't deny it,' Ron spat. 'Just wait until our parents find out about this!'

Hermione never heard a word. She sat still, a serene-looking figure, with those awful, awful words resounding in her head:

… _my sister has spent the last few weeks in bed with Draco fucking Malfoy…_

'Hermione?' Harry's concerned voice tried to poke through her consciousness. 'Are you okay?'

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. He was the Male Slut of Hogwarts for three years running, after all. Why did she expect him to change spots that obviously went more than skin deep?

Because he said he loved her. More than once. In the most intimate way possible.

She looked straight into his beautiful eyes and believed him.

A solitary tear tracked down her cheek.

'Hermione? Hermione!' Desperate, Harry reached across the table to her.

She stood up from the bench, stumbling. She had to get away from this zoo. She needed to think.

She turned, and headed for the Great Hall doors.

* * *

'What in Salazar's name happened at the Gryffindor table?' asked Snape.

McGonagall huffed. 'I am not fully cognizant of the details, but it appears that Miss Weasley has done something to make Mr Weasley and Mr Zabini extremely displeased with her.' She looked over at Severus. 'Mr Malfoy's name was mentioned.'

Snape sighed. It had to happen at some point. Mr Malfoy's ability to seduce any girl into his bed at the snap of his fingers was bound to cause problems.

He thought about chickens and roosts.

'Oh, dear,' McGonagall said. 'Speak of the devil.'

* * *

Draco burst into the Great Hall. He had to find her. Nothing else mattered.

He couldn't believe his luck when he saw Hermione heading to the Great Hall doors.

But then he saw her face, and a part of him died.

She was trying her best to hold her tears in, but with each step, they escaped and trickled down her cheeks. She had to leave before she humiliated herself in front of everyone –

'Hermione!'

She looked up, disbelieving. He was there. Holding out a shaking hand to her. His face was wretched.

'I'm so sorry, love.'

So it was true, then. _So there_ , she mentally said to the tiny, optimistic part of her head that wildly hoped it was just a misunderstanding.

She wiped her cheeks, clenched her teeth, and watched as he approached her.

He looked into her eyes, full of tears and sorrow and betrayal and anger.

'When I realised I loved you I stopped being with Ginny,' he whispered. 'I know there is nothing I can say that will make my behaviour any less reprehensible than what it was. Except that I love you so much, the thought of you leaving me is almost more than I could bear.'

Leaving him.

It was almost more than she could bear.

Sobs constricted her throat.

The sound of her hand as it cracked across Draco's face echoed in the now silent Great Hall.

Hermione's face crumpled. 'You bastard!' she tried to scream, but it came out as a hoarse whisper instead.

Her feet took her to the Great Hall's door; then she ran.

Draco looked down at the floor.

His face burned from her hand.

His hope died.

* * *

'Bastard!'

In the blink of an eye, Draco found himself flat on the floor, instead of just looking at it. Dimly, he realised that someone was trying to punch and kick the living shit out of him. Actually, no, make that two people. Blaise and the Weasel.

His first instinct was to grab his wand and give as good as he got. But he realised he didn't really give a shit anymore.

He lost her.

She was gone.

So he just curled into a ball, tried to protect his groin and waited for the inevitable end.

* * *

Shortly, the two-on-one session became a rugby sevens scrum with Harry, Dean, Seamus and Theo trying to prise Blaise and Ron off Draco. Students cheered and jumped onto the benches and tables, vying for a spot where they could witness the bloodshed. McGonagall and Snape ran towards them; wands drawn and issuing threats. Jason Robards was even in the thick of it, trying to shield Draco from injury.

Well. Further injury.

'ENOUGH!' bellowed Snape, his impressive don't-fuck-with-me voice bouncing off the walls and flagstones. The fighters reluctantly retired to their corners, leaving Draco lying on the floor, unmoving, blood pooling from his wounds.

'Robards, see to Malfoy,' instructed Snape tersely.

As Snape and McGonagall lined Blaise and Ron up and commenced their 'Never in all my life have I ever seen such a revolting display of [insert behaviour here]' speeches, Jason knelt over Draco's still body, trying to work out which injury was the most serious. Theo hovered next to him, biting his lip.

'Can you hear me, Malfoy?' Jason asked clearly.

Draco opened a bloodshot eye and grunted something. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto the floor.

'Can you sit up?' Jason asked. 'Or stand up?'

Another unintelligible grunt. With Jason and Theo's help, he eventually managed to sit up. Circe, he'd never hurt so much before. It almost felt good.

Jason swiftly scanned Draco with his wand. His nose was broken, some teeth were loose, some ribs were cracked, but luckily the rest of him was just bruised, albeit nastily. He wasn't sure about Draco's kidneys; they were exposed, and Blaise and Ron had been quite vicious in that area.

Jason looked around. Of all the days Madam Pomfrey decided to do some refresher training at St Mungo's! He looked at Theo. 'Can you help me get him to the Infirmary?' he asked. 'I'm only allowed to levitate unconscious patients.'

'Sure.'

Slowly, they managed to pull Draco up from the ground, albeit with a fair amount of complaining (in the form of grunts) from the patient. The students, still avidly watching the drama, gasped when they saw Draco's battered face and bloodied clothes. McGonagall and Snape paused in their lectures to look at Draco, narrowed their eyes, then resumed their berating with renewed vigour.

A frowning Professor Dumbledore brought the school back to a modicum of calm.

Jason, Theo and Draco made their way to the Infirmary.

Ron and Blaise were sentenced to a shit-ton of detention. Blaise kept his Head Boy role, but only just; and Ron kept his place in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Only just.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry read Ron's appalling letter, thinking about what Draco said.

Pansy sat at the Slytherin table throughout, sipping coffee, with her innocent, appalled eyes as innocent and appalled as she could make them.

* * *

'Not that I don't appreciate the help,' Jason said to Theo over Draco's prone form, 'but aren't you missing classes?'

Theo shrugged. 'I don't think he has anyone else in his corner.'

Jason looked up after he successfully re-set Draco's nose. 'Do you think someone will come back to… continue? Malfoy, you can't talk. I'm trying to set your teeth, so shut it.'

Draco glared at him instead.

'Yeah,' said Theo. Probably.'

'Maybe you should tell Snape. He could set up some wards around Malfoy while he recovers. Give him a sporting chance, at least.'

'Yeah,' Theo said tiredly. He stood up, not caring about the blood that had now dried on his hands, arms and clothes. 'I'll go get him. Will you be all right on your own?'

'With Malfoy, or Malfoy's enemies?'

Theo smiled wanly. 'Both.'

'I've got my wand. I'll be fine.'

'Thanks, Robards.' Theo patted him on the shoulder as he headed away.

The next job was to treat Draco's ribs and inspect and bathe his collection of bruises with arnica. Since they were absolutely everywhere, Draco was going to have to lose his clothes.

Jason sighed to himself.

'To examine and treat your ribs and bruises,' he said to Draco professionally, 'your clothes have to be removed. You can do it yourself if you can, or I can do it by wand.'

Draco looked up, but with none of his expected ire. He simply pointed to Jason.

Jason muttered the incantation and flicked his wand with one hand, pulling a sheet over Draco's lower half with the second.

Sweet baby dragons.

Draco's torso was practically a blue-hued Jackson Pollock painting, riddled with black and blue blobs. Jason expected his back to be worse. The area around his cracked ribs was a vile shade of raised, shiny purple.

Jason fixed Draco's ribs, rather impressed by Malfoy's stoicism as the ribs cracked back into place. He set out a dose of diluted Skele-gro to help them knit together once Draco's teeth were set in place.

'This shouldn't be uncomfortable,' Jason murmured, collecting the arnica. 'But make some sort of sign if you want me to stop.'

There was no response.

Well. No use dithering. Jason set his equipment within reach, brought a stool over, sat down and got to work.

* * *

Jason was cleaning up the last of the blood from Draco's body when Snape and Theo arrived.

'Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that Madam Pomfrey will be returning early,' Snape intoned. He cast a professional eye over Draco's body, noting the extensive bruises on his godson in grim silence. 'But you seem to have done an adequate job on your own.'

High praise indeed from the Potions Monster. 'Thank you, sir,' Jason replied. 'Um, I need to write up my notes before I forget what I did. May I?" He pointed to Madam Pomfrey's office.

Snape nodded, and Jason left the Slytherin trio to it.

Snape stood at the foot of the bed eyeing the patient and the boy sitting next to him. 'What is going on?' he asked calmly.

Theo looked at Draco and started to speak, but stopped when Draco laid his hand on his forearm. 'It was a fight over a girl, sir,' he said slowly, trying out his nose and teeth for size. Nothing broke or fell off. Robards did a pretty good job.

'Yes, the whole school knows that,' Snape said. 'But knowing you as I do, a little niggling something tells me there's more to it than that.'

Draco shrugged, then nearly passed out from the pain. 'I've been using girls disrespectfully for years, sir. This is just my time to reap what I sowed.'

Snape glared at Theo, but he was wisely looking at the ground.

Fine. Snape still had a trump card. 'And how is Miss Granger mixed up in this?' he asked smoothly.

Theo's head shot up and looked at Draco, before quickly subsiding.

Draco closed his eyes, and tried to take as deep a breath as his ribs would let him. 'Please keep Miss Granger out of this,' he whispered. 'Sir.'

Neither Draco nor Theo would say any more, despite Snape's application of his glower power.

He sighed heavily. 'I will make temporary arrangements to ensure that you are not troubled by Zabini or Weasley,' he said. 'But when you are recovered, I fully expect this rift to be resolved. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, sir,' mumbled Draco.

When Snape left, Theo looked at his friend. 'I never told Lavender about why I sought her out,' he said. 'I'm gonna have to tell her now.'

Draco shook his head a little. 'Parkinson doesn't know about you.'

Theo sat back in his chair. 'Parkinson's behind all this?'

'Yup.'

'She wrote the letters to Zabini and the Weasel?'

'Bet my fortune on it.'

'Why didn't you tell Snape?'

'We deal with our own problems.'

Theo sat in silence for a while. Then he said 'She might figure it out, anyway.'

'You may be right,' replied Draco eventually.

'I'll tell Lavender. It's the right thing to do.'

'Hope she doesn't nail your balls to the nearest tree.'

Theo snorted. 'Seconded.'

He stood up. Draco grabbed him by the hand. 'Thanks, Theo,' he said. 'For everything.'

Something burned in Theo's eyes. 'Hurry up and get better, malingerer.'

He wiped his eyes as he left the Infirmary.

* * *

Jason appeared with a pain-relief potion and checked Draco's teeth.

'Thanks, Robards,' Draco said. 'Sorry for being an arsehole to you all year.'

'That's all right,' Jason replied. 'Um' –

'Spit it out,' Draco said tiredly, but without venom.

'I knew you liked Hermione, but I didn't know you two were together. Looking back over the past few weeks, when we both worked here, she was really happy. More than that. Joyful. She practically glowed. I put it down to her headaches disappearing and her workload easing, but it's obvious to me now that it wasn't something making her happy, it was someone.' He looked straight into Draco's eyes. 'You.'

Draco couldn't look away.

'For what it's worth, I thought you were perfect for her.'

Draco gritted his new teeth, but the tears still formed in his eyes. He tried to stem them with his fingers, but his body had just had enough for one day.

Jason said nothing, but closed the privacy screens around him and cast a _Muffliato._

So that no-one could see - or hear – Draco Malfoy cry.


	25. Chapter 25

'Come on, Hermione, please! If you're not going to open the door, will you at least let me know you're okay?' Harry desperately banged on the Head Dorm's portrait hole for the umpteenth time.

'For the last time, will you stop it?' shrieked the old bat in the portrait, clinging to her wildly rocking rocking chair for dear life. 'She doesn't want to speak to you! Now sod off. You've given me a headache.'

Harry glared at the old woman, but he had to concede defeat. He slumped off down the hall.

'Any luck?' asked Neville, who was waiting nearby with Parvati.

'Nope,' said Harry despondently. 'The portrait's a stubborn old coot, too.'

'Gods, what a mess,' sighed Parvati.

'How's Ginny?' asked Harry carefully.

'Like a tap with a permanent leak.'

'Was she really taking sex lessons from Malfoy?' Neville's face was a picture.

'Don't you think about taking any,' Parvati retorted. 'You don't need to.'

Harry smirked at Neville's blush.

'M-maybe we could find Blaise and get him to let us in?' asked Neville.

'He's probably in detention.'

'True.'

Harry pulled out his wand. 'Let's see if this works.'

He conjured his _Patronus_.

* * *

Hermione heard the insistent banging on the door, but she was in the bath, so she couldn't get out. Never mind that the water was now stone-cold and only came up to a quarter of the tub's volume.

She sat in the middle of the bath with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around them. Her once-wet hair floated around her in lank strings. Tears pooled over her knees and trickled down her shins. Her lips, if she could see them, were purple from the cold.

She couldn't think right now.

The pain was too raw.

Normally, the sight of a stag, real or non, trotting into one's bathroom would usually be cause for surprise at the very least, but Hermione couldn't even manage a raised eyebrow. Still. It was here; she should probably listen.

'Hermione,' said Harry's worried voice. 'I know you're hurt. I can't even begin to understand how you must feel right now, but I'm worried about you, and I need to know if you're all right. It's okay if you don't want to talk. But please get a message to tell me you're okay so I can stop panicking, yeah? Please take care.'

The stag bowed to her, then disappeared.

That was nice of Harry. She'll send a _Patronus_ back to him.

When she's finished her bath.

* * *

Blaise shoved open the portrait hole, ignoring the simpering old bat that was trying to get his attention. He and the Weasel spent the past few hours polishing a million pieces of cutlery in the kitchen, under the fretful supervision of the house-elves. At least that job was just mind-numbingly boring. Tomorrow, they had to clean out the fucking Owlery. By hand.

Staring at his distorted reflection in an unending number of knives and spoons gave him the time to think. Gave the Weasel time to think, too. And together, they thought of a plan.

Blaise's face hardened when he thought of it.

He shuffled up the stairs. He really wanted a shower. Just the thought of those bloody owls made him feel grubby. He opened the bathroom door and turned the light on.

'Fucking hell! Hermione!'

He raced to the bath and hauled the pale, cold, unresponsive girl out of the water. Grabbing as many towels as possible with his spare hand, he raced to her bedroom and laid her on the bed.

He leapt onto the bed and rubbed Hermione's lower body briskly with the towels. 'What the fuck, Hermione?' he yelled. 'What the hell did you think you were doing?'

Her eyelids shimmered, but she didn't wake.

'Fuck, fuck fuck!' Blaise was very close to a full-on panic. Now her skin was dry, he wrenched open the sheets to her bed and tucked her in. Salazar's tits, her lips were _blue._ He pulled out his wand and cast every warming charm he could think of. They provided a little relief, but there was so much of her that was cold.

He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out.

He pulled off his tie.

* * *

Hermione felt she was at the bottom of a lake. Reeds and weeds slithered silently in the water. She knew which way was up; she could see the pale light above that indicated the sky. She just had to get there.

Her arms and legs were sluggish, though. She had to work really hard to make her way. She started getting warm from all the effort. How silly! She's at the bottom of a lake. But she can breathe. She tried it. No air bubbles formed, but she was breathing.

This is very strange. What will she find when she breaches the surface?

Hermione broke through.

She opened her eyes and found herself in her bed. She was lying on her side and felt deliciously warm, for all that she was naked.

Her arm was holding something warm. It was soft and hard at the same time. It was wrapped across her breasts. She looked down. It was another arm.

Draco? she thought joyfully – before she remembered.

Besides. The skin on this arm was dark chocolate.

Oh!

The rest of her body prickled into life. Now she was acutely conscious of the warm, hard and smooth body pressed up against her.

What the bloody hell?

This is a logic problem, Granger. Let's review the facts.

She's in her bed, nude, with an equally nude Blaise Zabini, with his body pressed up against hers.

The last thing she remembered was sitting in the bath. Not thinking. She felt cold, but had no energy to get out, or even turn the hot water on.

Now, the presumptions:

She fell asleep.

Then fear gripped her. Or maybe she fell unconscious.

Blaise came back from detention and found her unresponsive in the bath, and used his body heat to raise her core body temperature.

Oh, my gods, she thought tearfully. I nearly died, and Blaise saved my life.

* * *

Theo leaned against the railing that ran around the circumference of the Astronomy Tower platform. The lake, far below him, looked like a serpentine sheet of silver glass.

He glanced at his hands. He'd scrubbed them free of Draco's blood. But they were still shaking.

He'd watched, along with the rest of the school, what happened when Draco and Hermione spoke; and when she ran away. He'd known Draco for many years, and he'd never seen his friend look so desolate before.

Now it was his turn to face the music.

He glanced out over the serene countryside again. The tower was a long way up.

It was also a long way down.

'Theo?'

He turned and smiled as best he could when Lavender appeared on the platform. She was trembling from the cold, and Theo crossed the floor to wrap her in his own robe. He kissed her cold lips.

'Why did you want to meet here?' she asked, curious. 'Uh – we're not going to have sex here, right?'

Theo laughed, despite himself. 'I think it's too cold for anything to work up here. I wanted space and privacy, and I figured this place would be the last resort for most to sneak off to.'

'Okay.' She looked up at him. 'It's a bad thing you want to say, isn't it?'

Theo rested his head on her curls. 'Yeah. I'm sorry.'

There was a silence, before Lavender said stiffly 'Will you at least tell me why?'

Theo was a little confused. 'Um, why what?'

She struggled out of his embrace. 'Why you're breaking up with me!' Her voice cracked, and she whirled away from him.

'What? No! Gods, no! I don't want to break up with you! I love – oh, gods' – Theo grasped Lavender by the shoulders and pulled her around to face him. Her lips were trembling and tears spiked her lashes. He leaned down so their faces were level. 'I love you, Lavender. You're the best, most beautiful, most precious thing in my life. I don't want to break up with you. I'll never want to leave you.'

He trailed off, and leaned his forehead against hers. 'Please don't cry,' he whispered.

'You love me?'

'Yeah. A lot. I should have said it earlier' –

Lavender cupped his face her hands. 'I love you too, Theo Nott.' She kissed him with intensity, daring him to kiss her back just as hard.

After a little while, Lavender dried her eyes and blew her nose. 'I'm sorry I over-reacted before you had even said what you were going to say,' she admitted a little sheepishly.

Theo shook his head. 'Just a little misunderstanding with a happy outcome,' he said lightly.

She giggled, and tried to snuggle in to him. But he kept her at arm's pace.

'I have to tell you this thing, love,' he said desperately. 'I have to get it off my chest.'

Sobering, she nodded and stared at him solemnly. 'Go.'

Right. Where to start? Theo swallowed. 'This involves Draco,' he said softly.

He gulped when her pretty features froze with disapproval.

'Draco wanted me to get some information to help him convince Hermione to go out with him.' Okay, maybe that wasn't one hundred percent the truth, but it was at least eighty-five percent, surely? 'He asked me to speak to her friends. I chose you.'

Lavender stood as still as stone. Her eyes bored into his.

'I deliberately bumped into you that day when you were late for Muggle Studies,' he confessed wretchedly. 'But when we met in the Transfiguration classroom, and I got to know you, I liked you. A lot. I had liked you for a while. I didn't lie about that. And when we were in the Boathouse together, I wasn't there because of Draco. I was there because I wanted to be with you.

'My feelings for you have never been a lie, Lavender. I should have asked you straight out if you could help me, or kept Draco's sordid plans away from us. I'm so desperately, incredibly, sorry.'

Theo's throat clogged with something, and he couldn't speak any more.

Lavender slowly let out a breath. 'Did you get the information Malfoy wanted?'

Theo looked at the ground and nodded.

'Did you give the information to him?' she whispered.

Another nod.

'Did this morning's events have something to do with that information?'

Theo looked up at her. His face was tense and white. He nodded tersely.

'Are you sorry for deceiving me, or for indirectly hurting all those people?'

'Both! Lavender, you know me.'

'You're a Slytherin,' she spat. 'Maybe I don't know you at all.'

He felt the blow.

After a silence, he couldn't stand it anymore. 'What happens now?' he asked. 'With us?'

Lavender swallowed and looked away. 'I don't know,' she admitted. 'I need to think.'

She backed away and headed to the exit, leaving Theo in the middle of the platform, bereft.

'I love you,' he whispered.

By a miracle, she heard him. 'I know,' she said around the lump in her throat. 'I think I still love you. But I have to think about whether I can forgive you.'

He nodded, and she left him.

He clutched his hair in his hands and roared 'Fuck!' so loudly that the owls in the Owlery Tower fertilised the floor in fright.

* * *

Hermione carefully turned around in Blaise's arms, but the motion woke him.

'Shit! I feel asleep,' he muttered to himself. Then he realised that Hermione had moved. He reached for his wand with his spare hand and cast a _Lumos_. She was awake, exhausted still, and with unshed tears glittering in her eyes.

'Omigod, you're awake!' Blaise exhaled in relief. Then his eyes turned stormy. 'Merlin's bloody tits, woman, do you have any idea how much you scared me?' He gathered Hermione into his arms and crushed her to his body.

'I'm sorry, Blaise,' she whispered in his embrace. 'I didn't mean to scare you, I'm so sorry.'

She felt even worse when he started to cry.

* * *

Blaise wiped his eyes and smiled sheepishly. 'I'm all right now. I think it was just the relief.'

He was lying on his back, and Hermione had curled into his side beneath his arm.

He sighed. 'What a bloody awful day.'

She snorted.

'I had no idea you were with Malfoy. I'm sorry, by the way.'

She waved a hand. 'Nothing to do you with you.' She twisted around, and looked up at his face. 'I still have trouble comprehending what on earth Ginny was thinking. Now it's my turn to say sorry to you.'

He huffed a laugh. 'Nothing to do with you. We're the wronged parties here.'

'Guess so.'

'Do you think you'll forgive Malfoy? Take him back?'

Here it was. The questions Hermione had been trying to avoid all day. 'I don't know,' she said softly. 'I should probably cut my losses and dump his skinny white arse, but when you put those questions to me just now, the word 'no' just didn't sound right. I think I'm too angry to make a considered decision right now,' she added. 'Not to mention humiliated.'

'Stop that.' She looked up at Blaise and found that his face was serious. 'You and I did nothing wrong. It just sucks that people, being people, will pity us or laugh at us but that just reveals more about them than it does about us. Or something like that.' He sighed. 'I don't know.'

'Me neither.' But that the moment, something more pressing needed to be discussed. 'Blaise?'

'Yep?'

'We're – well, naked. In this bed.'

'This is true.'

'What happens now?' she asked bravely.

Blaise's eyes glittered. 'What do you want to happen?'

'Are you seriously answering my question with a question?'

He grinned lopsidedly. 'Hey. Slytherin.'

She rolled her eyes.

'All right,' he laughed. Settling, he looked at her and traced a finger along her jawline. 'It's clear to most blokes in this school that you're a beautiful young woman,' he murmured.

Hermione gulped. 'It would also be true to say that most girls think you're very attractive.' And she could now attest. She'd not seen everything he had on display, but the bits she did see were considerably… yummy.

'Then I propose an experiment.'

Hermione's ears pricked up. 'Oh, yes?'

'I propose that we try one thing, evaluate the response, and determine what steps to take from there.'

This man knows my language, Hermione marvelled. 'What's the thing?'

'This,' said Blaise, and kissed her.

It was a considered kiss. A kiss that was of the appropriate length to determine future strategy. His lips were soft and warm, and he traced the outline of her mouth before drawing each one into his mouth.

When his tongue touched her lips, she opened them and let him in. She did the same with his mouth. In all, it was a thorough examination – warm, rather than passionate.

Because there was no passion to be found.

They pulled apart gently, and looked at each other with equal regret and relief.

'Friends?' he whispered.

'Friends,' she affirmed, and hugged him.

* * *

'Y-you wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?' Ginny asked, quaking at the knees at the entrance to his office.

'Ah, yes, Miss Weasley. Come in, please do.' He bestowed a kindly smile on her and waved her to a chair opposite his desk. Professor McGonagall stood nearby, looking Sphinx-like.

After he offered her a sherbet lemon (which she politely accepted) and enquired as to how she was now feeling, Dumbledore picked up a letter off his desk. Squinting at it, he remembered to put on his half-moon glasses and squinted at the letter again.

'Now, my dear, I've had a letter from your parents.'

The bottom dropped out of Ginny's world.

'It seems they received an almost indecipherable Howler from Mr Weasley. Ronald, that is.'

Ginny looked at Professor McGonagall in despair. She pursed her lips together.

'After studying it for some time, they received the impression that your life was in mortal danger, and so naturally they communicated with me right away.'

'Naturally,' Ginny agreed faintly.

'I quickly dissuaded them of the notion that you were any physical danger, much to their relief. But as to the reason for Mr Weasley's communique, I'm afraid, my dear, that I had to inform them of the recent unhappy events.' Professor Dumbledore's cheeks turned pink. 'Rather, Professor McGonagall informed them on my behalf.'

Ginny stole another look at Professor McGonagall, who rolled her eyes briefly.

'What did they say, sir?' Ginny asked tremulously.

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances. 'They want you to go home, dear,' he said kindly.

'No!' she croaked tearfully, gripping the armrests of her chair with white fingers.

The Professors looked at her sadly. 'We agree that it's probably best if you have a break from Hogwarts,' McGonagall added gently. 'What's done is done, and as to who's in the right or wrong, you cannot deny that you've had a terrible shock, and your once-strong circle of friends is divided right now. We do think it would be best if you spent the remainder of this school year away, and return for your final year next September.'

When the other key players in this shit-show won't be here. It didn't need to be said.

'You can't send me home!' Ginny wailed. 'I haven't finished the academic year! I still have exams to sit! And-and what about my position on the Gryffindor team?'

'Yes, we are concerned that spending the remainder of the year at home will put you behind in your schooling,' acknowledged Professor Dumbledore. 'Therefore, Minerva and I put an alternative proposal to your parents. They were happy for you choose the one you would prefer.'

Ginny wiped her eyes. 'What's the alternative, sir?' she asked without much hope.

'We have been in discussions with Professor Karkaroff of the Durmstrang Institute, and he would be pleased to host you for the remainder of the academic year at his facility. If you wish to go, that is.'

'Durmstrang?' said Ginny faintly. 'Do girls go there?'

'I believe there are a few,' replied Dumbledore with a wink. 'Professor Karkaroff has heard of your talent in Quidditch, and is most interested in watching you play. But it's entirely up to you, you understand.'

'Can my parents afford Durmstrang?' Ginny asked hesitantly.

'That is all taken care of,' Dumbledore said firmly.

'Wow,' said Ginny shakily, sinking back in her chair.

* * *

'Are you awake, Draco?'

He cracked an eye open and regarded the slim red-haired girl standing at the foot of his bed.

'Shouldn't be here,' he croaked. 'Not safe for you to be seen with me.'

Ginny shrugged. 'No-one else is here. Robards said he'd keep an eye out.' She went to the table next to his bed and poured him a glass of water. 'Here. Sorry it's not Firewhisky.'

He smirked briefly; then drank.

'So, what brings you to my temporary abode?' he asked.

'I'm leaving Hogwarts, so I came to say goodbye.'

'Shit! What?' Draco struggled to sit up. Alarmed, Ginny grabbed some pillows and propped him up. 'Surely they haven't expelled you?'

Ginny grinned. 'No, thicko. Ron sent a Howler to my parents, landing me right in it' –

Draco snorted.

'and they wanted me to come home because of the 'atmosphere' at school.' She air-quoted with her fingers. 'But Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall wrangled an opportunity for me to study at Durmstrang for the rest of the year, and return to Hogwarts next year.' She smiled. 'I've decided to go to Durmstrang.'

Draco cracked a pleased smile. 'You lucky bitch!' he congratulated. 'I'm so envious.'

'Yeah, I thought you'd be.'

Draco's smile fell, and he placed a hand on Ginny's forearm. 'I'm incredibly sorry, Red,' he whispered.

She covered his hand with her own. 'It's okay,' she replied softly. 'It wasn't _all_ bad. See? I get to study at the best Quidditch school around, and I'll never forget what you taught me.' Her eyes glistened. 'I'm sure it will come in handy one day.'

Draco brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. 'The right man for you will come along, Red,' he promised. 'Just set your sights higher than a Slytherin, yeah?'

She grinned, but a tear dropped on to the bedsheet.

Draco opened his arms, and she leaned in and gently hugged him.

'Bye, Draco,' she sniffled.

'Bye, Red,' he whispered.

She pulled away, wiped her eyes, and left.

Draco stared up at the ceiling.

* * *

Lavender sat in the Library with a parchment, ink, and a quill. No apple this time, although she supposed she was a bit peckish. It wasn't worth bearing the brunt of Madam Pince's wrath.

She dipped her quill, and headed up her parchment.

 **Can I forgive Theo? Yes or no.**

 **No**

 _He used me to help that wanker Malfoy._

 _He hurt me._

 _I don't know if I can trust him._

 **Yes**

 _We didn't know each other at the start._

 _He's my best friend._

 _I can't forget the amazing time we've spent together._

 _I love him. Still. Despite this._

 _The thought of being without him makes me want to cry._

 _He didn't mean to hurt me. It's not like he deliberately seduced me for the information and dumped me the next day._

 _If we're open and honest with each other, I can trust him again._

 _Therefore: yes._

She slowly rolled the parchment up. And headed to the Owlery.

* * *

Days passed, and the mania of the previous events settled. Blaise and Ron continued their detentions. Ginny's absence from Gryffindor was quietly noted.

Harry felt her absence more than most, and not just because there was a gaping hole in the Quidditch team that had to be urgently filled.

Hermione attended classes, did her Head Girl and Prefect duties. Professor McGonagall had suspended her from Infirmary duties for the time being, worried, she said, about a relapse in Hermione's health.

Having being none the wiser to Draco's assault and his continued presence in the Infirmary, she accepted it. If she noticed that he wasn't in class or at the Slytherin table, she kept her observations to herself. Truth be told, it was a little easier if she didn't see him.

But eventually, Draco was officially declared fit for duties, and it was time to return to school. His first hurdle was the Slytherin Common Room, but it wasn't that bad. Theo was there, Blaise wasn't, and Pansy was off frying other fish, so to speak.

He climbed into his bed, a bed he hadn't slept in for weeks, and did what he'd been doing ever since the assault.

Missing Hermione like hell.

* * *

Morning.

Breakfast.

A lesser man might have decided a little hunger was worth the skip, but Draco accepted that life had to plod on, regardless. He had a wand. Next time he'd use it.

Besides. Hermione might be there.

Theo walked with Draco into the Great Hall. And yeah, there was the standard dramatic pause in sound while everyone turned their heads like a great herd of sheep to stare at him, but he ignored them and sat at the Slytherin table. A quick glance up and down revealed that Zabini wasn't there.

He couldn't look at the Gryffindor table yet.

* * *

The owls made their way into the Great Hall and flapped about, looking for their drop-off points. Theo received a rolled parchment that made him turn rather pale at first, but when he shakily opened it and read the contents, his relief lit his face up like the sun.

Draco opened his letter with one hand while he stirred his coffee.

 _Malfoy_

 _This isn't over._

 _We challenge you to a duel in two days' time at midday at the clearing in the Forbidden Forest._

 _Nominate your second._

 _Zabini and Weasley._

Draco silently handed the letter to Theo, and walked out of the Hall.

* * *

 **A/N: I should make it absolutely clear that Hermione was** **not** **trying to commit suicide. She was just in shock and her body temperature dropped.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hansy lemon coming up**

* * *

Sweat ran in a trickle down Harry's back. He was fucking Pansy at a punishing pace – and she was still begging for more. She'd suck out his soul out if he wasn't careful.

At her request, or rather, demand, he lashed her wrists to one of her bedposts, above her head, with his tie. As she gripped the post, he stood behind her, grabbed her hips, and sunk his cock inside her. He fucked her hard, revelling in her breathless moans, the trickle of moisture that crept down her thighs.

Harry gripped her hair and pulled her head back. 'You like being tied up?' he grunted. 'You surprise me.'

Her eyes were closed, her mouth open as she gasped for air. 'I need more,' she begged.

'Selfish bitch,' he hissed. 'I can't give you any more.'

'Fuck my arse,' she moaned.

'You're serious,' he said, stopping.

'I've done it before, I need it! just do it!'

Harry sneered. 'No.' He pulled out from her and walked lazily around the bed. He sat on the bed in front of her murderous eyes, his legs spread, gripping his slick erection. 'Not unless you ask nicely.'

Enraged, she tried to loosen her bonds – but in vain. 'You're a fucking bastard, Harry Potter!' she spat.

He smirked. 'That's not going to get you untied any quicker.'

At her shriek of frustration, he added 'Nor will it get you a cock in your arse faster.'

She stopped, breathing hard, her hair in her face. She looked at him, and Harry could almost see her physically tamp down her rage. In a small voice, she said 'Please, Harry? I want your cock so badly.'

He considered her performance. 'What was that first word again? I didn't quite catch it.'

She closed her eyes, opened them, took a deep breath and said 'Please, Harry,' in a stronger voice that also contained an edge.

He reached towards her and gripped her chin hard. 'What was that word?' he hissed.

'Please!'

'What?'

'Please!' she shrieked.

He kissed her roughly, pulling away as she started to react. 'That's better.'

He sauntered back to her, _accio-ing_ her lubricant. He squeezed some onto a finger, and sank it into her anus. Soon after, he added a second finger, probing her arse, preparing it for him.

'Is this what you want, Princess?' he bit out.

'Please, Harry, put your cock inside my pussy,' she begged softly.

He stroked himself hard again, and entered her in one strong surge. She wailed in desire.

'Like this?' he asked, stroking in and out of her pussy, while his fingers did the same with her arse.

'Yes!' She bucked up against him. Her own skin was also slick with sweat. Harry found it hard to grip her.

'Please, Harry, fuck my arse now…'

'Hmm…' he pretended to consider. 'I think you should come first. Bathe my cock in your come. Then I'll sink my wet cock into your arse, and fuck you until you scream.' He picked up his pace. 'Hmm? Fancy that, sweetheart?'

It was, of course, a bluff. Harry wasn't wet behind the ears when it came to sex. He knew what a girl's pussy felt like when she came, and Pansy's was lifeless by comparison. He let her fake it. He didn't love her. Didn't even like her now. After her constant refusals for their relationship to go public, the closest phrase he could use to describe their relationship was 'fuck buddies.' With more emphasis on the 'fuck' than the 'buddy.'

Of course, with her hands tied to the bedpost and the possibility of anal sex so near, Pansy didn't want to chance anything. Behind her, his lip curled as she put on her practiced pants and moans. He let her perform for about a minute before he told her not to bother, pulled his cock out, applied lube, and surged into her arse.

The change in Pansy was electric. Her spine bowed and she flung her head back and wailed in ecstasy, making Harry hope her silencing charm for the room was strong enough. The tight muscles of her arse gripped his cock hard, and he revelled in the sensation. He sped up, hardly caring what Pansy wanted. He, personally, wanted to come – and then go.

'Oh gods oh gods oh gods please please please,' moaned Pansy over and over, sometimes to herself; sometimes to Harry.

'So this is what you really like, is it, Parkinson?' Harry asked. 'Don't tell me you're going to come for real with me in your arse.'

'Fuck you!' she nearly sobbed, bracing her arms against the bedpost against Harry's furious thrusts.

'You already are!' he sneered.

He could feel his orgasm approaching. He leaned over her, and whispered in her ear, taunting: 'I'm going to come in your arse, Parksinson. Gonna fill your dirty, naughty arse all the way up. You gonna come too, honey?' He gripped her mons with his palm and stroked his fingers roughly over her clitoris.

'Omigod,' she begged, tears streaming down her face, 'just a little more, please, Harry!'

He was running out of time, but what the hey. He plunged three fingers into her pussy, pushing against her g-spot. He could feel his cock pistoning in and out of her arse through the membrane dividing the two channels. It felt so fucking good –

'Gods!' Harry roared as he came, spilling inside her.

By some miracle, Pansy orgasmed too, gushing over his fingers.

He felt empty as he pulled out of her. Empty inside. He untied her and conducted cleansing charms, even though he felt the desperate need to stand under a hot shower and scrub himself raw.

Pansy, however, was a very happy witch. She stretched luxuriously on her bed, shaking her arms to bring the circulation back into them. She turned onto her side and watched Harry as he dressed. 'Now that was very enjoyable,' she purred.

'Yeah.' He couldn't deny it. He did come, after all. But the good old missionary position is also enjoyable, too. And sometimes he didn't feel like pretending to be a sexual predator just to get her off.

Still, she was in a good mood, so he thought he'd ask her the questions that had been bothering him since Draco's assault. The questions he'd meant to ask when he entered her room, except she literally pounced on him and figuratively ripped his clothes off. 'What do you know about Zabini and Ron's assault on Malfoy?'

She raised both delicate eyebrows. 'Subtle change of subject,' she noted.

Harry waited.

Her eyes widened. 'Why would I be expected to know anything?' she asked, all innocence. 'It's nothing to do with me, I assure you.'

'Isn't Malfoy your friend?'

An eyelid flickered.

'Of course. It was such a shock to see him hurt.'

'So it wasn't you that wrote the letters to Ron and Zabini?'

Pansy itched to hex Harry's arrogant arse for his presumption, but he was too good a lover to piss off. So she packed away her rage and replied 'I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. Truly I don't.'

They stared at each other. Narrowed eyes against wide eyes.

'I have to go,' he said neutrally. He leaned over and pecked her softly on the lips. 'See you later.'

'Bye, Harry,' she replied with a smouldering smile and gritted teeth.

* * *

Hermione sat on the window seat in her bedroom, holding a letter. It was postmarked 'Durmstrang.'

She received it at breakfast this morning, albeit with a degree of trepidation. Nothing the owls brought seemed to be good these days.

It could have been from Draco.

She was irritated for feeling disappointed when it wasn't.

He'd kept away from her. She respected that. She supposed. He'd moved to another part of the classroom when they had shared lessons. But she could almost physically feel his presence. It didn't matter where he sat. In her weaker moments, when she would give in to herself and look for him, he would be watching her, hungrily. But when their eyes met, desolation would cloud his, and he would look away.

When Hermione recognised the letter's postmark at breakfast, she hid it in her books, lest Ron notice it and launch another temper tantrum. When he found out that Ginny had left Hogwarts to go to Durmstrang, not home in disgrace as he presumed, he very nearly hit the roof. Which, in a castle with lots of high ceilings, is a pretty impressive effort on Ron's part, when done without a broom.

Harry had to make up some bollocks (at least Hermione presumed it was bollocks) about how awful the conditions were at the school, which mollified him somewhat.

She looked at the envelope again. She knew the handwriting as well as she did her own.

Pesky tears formed in her eyes again. They were never far away, now.

She supposed she had every right to burn the letter unread. She was the wronged party. But Hermione was made from sterner stuff than that. Grudges achieved nothing. Not that she could convince Ron of that. If Ginny had taken the time to write, she should at least take the time to read.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the enclosed parchment. With shaking fingers, she opened it.

It was a bit of a mess, even by Ginny's standards, who approached her penmanship like she did a Quidditch game: boldly, quickly and violently. In amidst the ink spots and crossed-out words, Hermione recognised clear blotches that made the ink run together. Tears.

 _Hermione,_

 _I am so sorry._

 _I thought I'd write it at the top of the letter, so if you throw it away without reading the rest, at least I got to apologise, even if it was the coward's way._

 _I hope you're still reading this, though, because I want to tell you what happened. At least, what happened that I know about. Not so that I can blame someone else or excuse myself, gods, no. But you always want to know the facts of everything before making a decision. That's one of the many, many reasons why I came to you._

 _Used to come to you._

 _You'll remember that I spoke to you about my frustrations with Blaise. You suggested that I speak to Parkinson. Well, the night of the Ball, I plucked up my courage and spoke to her._

 _She was lovely, and sympathetic about my situation. And she recommended a solution, which, with the clarity of hindsight I now see was the stupidest idea in the world. She said I should approach Blaise with experience as a lover, because he was very cautious about virgins._

 _And she recommended Draco as a tutor._

 _He approached me later that night, and said he would be happy to oblige._

 _I didn't trust him, of course. At the start. But as I got to know him – in the non-sexual sense – I began to like him. As a friend. As someone to talk to about Quidditch. That's all. We never loved each other._

 _This is hard for me to write, but I know it must be more difficult for you to read. He taught me things that involved one or both of us being naked. I learned things where we touched each other intimately. But he was always the tutor, and I was always the student._

 _We never had sex. But I confess that I wanted to, only so that I could be with Blaise. In fact, we were going to do it. But on the day, Draco told me that he couldn't continue our lessons anymore. He said he'd fallen in love with someone, and that he'd had enough of being a man-slag. He wanted to be true to her. He didn't tell me who she was. Just that she was someone he didn't deserve. But he hoped she would make him a good man._

 _I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't know he'd fallen in love with you._

 _But knowing you as I do, and knowing Draco, I could kick myself for not making the connection. You and he are perfect for each other._

 _Please, please, forgive him._

 _When I saw him in the Infirmary before I left, he looked awful. I think he needs you. Badly._

 _Those letters to Ron and Blaise? They had to be written by someone who knew everything. I'm positive Draco didn't write them. The only person that I'm aware of who knew what was happening was Pansy._

 _If it was her, please watch out, Hermione. She's evil, even by Slytherin standards._

 _I'll write to Blaise, one day. I'm rather scared to, right now. I must have humiliated him so badly._

 _And Ron can stick his broom up his arse._

 _When Pansy suggested that I go to Draco, I wish to Merlin that I'd asked your advice first. I'll never forgive myself for not doing it._

 _I have no right to ask. But if you can - please forgive me, Hermione. I miss you so much._

 _G_

Hermione laid the letter carefully on the window seat. She took her wand and cast a silencing charm on her room with words that wobbled with unshed tears.

Then she put the wand down, curled into herself, and sobbed.

* * *

When she'd cried herself out and her eyes were so puffy she could barely see, she snuck off to the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face.

Back in her bedroom, she resumed her place on the window seat and set her brain into motion. There were a couple of things in Ginny's letter that made her blink.

The night, or rather, the morning she went to Draco in the dungeons, he stopped short of having sex with her. She recalled him saying that he wanted more time with her when they connected for the first time.

Was that really the reason?

Or did he stop so that he could end the lessons with Ginny before he committed to her?

They weren't together before that morning. Draco could be with who he wanted. Okay, he didn't tell her about his sex lessons with Ginny, the cowardly wanker. That's poor form, to put it mildly.

Also, he must have had feelings for her before then. He couldn't have fallen in love with her in a matter of seconds.

…

Another thing:

Ginny said Draco was in the Infirmary.

Professor McGonagall didn't want her working there, only just lifting the ban very recently.

Was she kept from the Infirmary so she couldn't see Draco?

Why?

Because he was injured. And they'd had a very public falling-out earlier that morning.

How did he injure himself?

No.

Who injured him?

She didn't need a Nobel Prize to figure that one out.

He seemed okay now. She'd watched him walk to and from class, to and from the Great Hall. Maybe too much. He wasn't limping. She couldn't see any scars or bruises. He just looks like how she felt.

So he's okay, physically.

Right?

…

The letters.

The letters that sent this happy, albeit precarious, house of cards crashing down.

Ginny was right. Draco wouldn't have written them. He wouldn't have brought all this grief upon himself, let alone everyone else. If there was one thing she could swear by, it was his sense of self-preservation.

Pansy seemed the ideal culprit. Unless there was another party involved that Ginny didn't know about.

Assuming it was Pansy. Why would she do that?

What would she gain?

It was there that Hermione's magnificent brain ground to a halt.

She should write back to Ginny.

She should talk to Draco.

She was absolutely knackered.

* * *

'You are out of your tiny, ever-loving mind!'

Draco sighed. 'What other choice do I have?'

Theo sputtered, and sped up his agitated pacing around Draco's bedroom. 'Choice? Bloody hell. Did Robards scan you for brain damage? You have lots of choices. Tell Snape, for one. Tell Dumbledore, for two.'

'Will you stop pacing, for Merlin's sake? You're giving me a headache.'

Theo sighed, then flung himself onto Draco's bed, next to his friend. 'Why won't you tell the professors?'

Draco stared up at his canopy. 'Because it won't end. Zabini and the Weasel will end up becoming more resentful for getting punished for something they hadn't done yet, something that might get their rage out of their system. They could come up with something more deceitful, more deadly, later on.'

'Makes sense,' Theo admitted. 'If that's the real reason.'

Draco looked at him, irritated. 'What do you mean?'

Theo leaned on his side, and looked at Draco seriously. Softly, he said 'I think you're doing this because Granger's left you and you don't give a shit about anything anymore.'

Draco was silent.

'Draco.'

Nothing.

Theo sighed. He changed tack. 'What if they use Unforgiveable curses?'

More bloody silence.

'What if they try to kill you?'

Draco moved his head in Theo's direction. 'Do you really think they're that stupid? Oh, wait. The Weasel's involved.'

'Yes, and he has a psychotic temper! Yet you want to duel him.'

'Well, I'd rather not, but I have no choice! And I have no desire to have another circular conversation about this, Theo.'

'Fine.'

They lapsed into silence.

'Theo?' Draco's voice was unsure.

'Yeah?'

'Will you be my second?'

Theo's hand sought Draco's and held it. 'Of course I will.'

'Are you going to tell Brown?'

Theo grimaced. 'She's not a fan of yours,' he hedged.

Draco smirked.

'This is the last time I'm lying for you,' Theo warned.

Draco squeezed Theo's hand. 'Cheers, mate.'

* * *

Draco was slouching at the back of Transfiguration class, his mind on anything but what the venerable Gryffindor Head was espousing. So the paper bird that landed on his desk came as a bit of a surprise.

He glanced over the heads of the other students at Hermione. She was sitting up straight, diligently noting down every Professor McGonagall said.

With trembling fingers, he unfolded the note.

 _D -_

 _I would like to talk. I hope that you do, too._

 _Please meet me in the Astronomy tower at 5pm this afternoon._

 _H._

As he carefully refolded the note into its original setting, he felt a slow warmth curl around his heart.

It was hope.

He thought it had gone for good.

* * *

He was there first, of course. Stupidly thinking it would help speed up time, somehow. But it just crawled. The cold didn't help, either. He adjusted his scarf and flexed his gloved hands.

But she came. He smelled her before he heard her. Her shampoo. Her favourite perfume. Her skin. It combined to create a scent unlike anything else.

He turned away from the platform railings. 'Hi.'

She nodded. 'Hi.' She looked over his shoulder at the desolate autumn countryside. 'I should have picked a warmer place to talk,' she admitted. 'Sorry.'

He quirked his lips. 'We won't have any eavesdroppers, at least.'

'True.'

They searched around the floor for an area where the cold and wind didn't cut like a knife through the open-air turret. They ended up sitting side by side against a sheltered wall.

There was an awkward silence to start with. Draco would have loved to have filled it, but he wasn't sure how she would respond to 'I love you, please take me back, I can't live without you and I'm going to do one of the stupidest things in my life tomorrow unless you help me find a way out of it.'

Anyway, Hermione cleared her throat. 'As I invited you, I should start.'

She couldn't quite look at him yet, so she concentrated on a crack in the floor. 'I should have given you the opportunity to explain. But I was too… anyway. I'm ready to listen to you. Am I too late?'

He ached to hold her. He had to grip his hands together to stop himself.

'No, no, of course not.' He paused, and thought.

'Being with Ginny was so typical of what I used to do before I was with you. I was selfish, self-serving, in pursuit of a cheap thrill at someone else's expense. I don't know what you consider 'cheating' to be in this sense, but I promise I didn't have sex her with her. When you and I spent our first night together in the dungeons, I had to end the lessons with Ginny before I could be with you completely. I couldn't play around with her and make love to you.'

He faltered, and stopped.

'I don't think you cheated,' Hermione said softly. 'I remember well what you were like before. If you didn't care about me, you would have slept with both of us.'

This sounded perversely hopeful, thought Draco. But she didn't sound overjoyed.

'You know, I'm a bit envious of Ginny,' she said vaguely.

Draco blinked. 'How could you possibly be?'

Her cheeks turned pink. 'I was a novice at sex. So was she. You taught her lots of things. How to be good in bed. I wondered' – she swallowed – 'if my inexperience was a nuisance for you. I mean, all the girls you've been with before' –

'Stop,' Draco whispered desperately, and before he knew he was he was doing, he pulled her into his arms.

Before Hermione knew what she was doing, she let him.

He buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes in desperate happiness. Knowing how fleeting it could be. 'You were perfect, love. There was no other way I wanted you to be. If you wanted to try something new out, you only had to ask.'

He sighed. 'You only have to ask.'

Hermione let herself breathe in Draco's scent. She'd no idea how much she missed it until now.

But –

'You were intimate with my best friend,' she murmured. 'I accept that technically it was before we got together. But it was a hell of a secret to keep from me.'

'I know.' He shuddered, and looked out at the rapidly sinking sun. 'I think I was too scared of losing you. There was really no innocent explanation for what I'd been doing with her.'

They lapsed into silence.

'When did you fall in love with me?' she blurted.

Draco leaned his head back against the wall. 'When you had the migraine I knew that I cared more about you than I thought,' he said. 'The gods-honest truth is that I'd been trying to seduce you all year. Like you just were any other girl. But when I saw you in such agony, I realised I'd been fooling myself. I didn't just want your body. I wanted all of you.' He sighed; a shuddering breath. 'But I didn't deserve you.'

'Yet you did all of those things for me.'

He shrugged. 'I still loved you, all the same.'

I won't cry! Hermione told herself fiercely. I won't!

'I'm so sorry, Hermione,' he whispered, before his throat closed up.

Eventually, she pulled away from him. She looked at him closely for the first time. He looked ill. He'd lost weight. His nose and cheekbones contrasted sharply with his hollow cheeks.

'What happened?' she asked. 'Why were you in the Infirmary?'

With a start, he remembered that she'd left the Great Hall before Blaise and the Weasel set on him. He opened his mouth.

'And don't lie to me.'

Bloody hell, how does she do that?

'Blaise and the Weas' – he coughed. 'Weasley were upset about Ginny.'

She narrowed her eyes. 'How upset?'

Well.

'Kind of upset.'

So in man language, they beat the living shit out of him. Both of them. And then I kissed one of them! Her lip curled at the thought.

Time for another subject change. 'Draco,' she asked carefully, 'is Parkinson mixed up in this somehow?'

Next to her, she felt every muscle in his body tense.

'I think she wrote the letters,' she volunteered.

He nodded shortly. 'Me too.'

'Why?'

If it brought Hermione back to him, Draco would sing from the rooftops. He was already just about on top of one, anyway. 'To get revenge against Zabini from dumping her. Believe it or not.'

'Gods, she's a piece of work.' Hermione sat up straight. 'What are we going to do about her?'

'What? No, wait!' Draco grabbed her arm, alarmed. 'I've got it in hand. Trust me. It will all be resolved shortly.'

Hermione peered at him suspiciously. 'Do you swear?'

He nodded. 'I swear.'

She noticed his faraway look. 'You're not going to tell me how, are you? she asked sadly.

'I won't let this treachery affect you any more,' he gritted. 'I just want it over. Sorted. And then maybe…' he trailed off, glancing at her.

'Draco…' her voice cracked. She tried again. 'I'm glad we had this talk.'

There was a 'but' coming; he could feel it.

'I accept what you've told me. But the biggest problem is…' A tear slid down her face. 'I don't know if I can trust you anymore.'

The pain hit him right in his chest.

'Understandable,' he managed to whisper. 'Are we… are we over, then?'

'N-no.'

His heart lurched.

'I don't know,' she amended.

It see-sawed back into place.

Still. It didn't plunge to the bottom of a mine shaft, as he expected.

'I need some more time to think,' she confessed. 'Sounds horribly clichéd, I know, but it fits.'

He climbed up, and held out his hand to help her up, too. When they stood together, he took both her hands in his.

'Take all the time you need,' he said. He grinned crookedly. 'Another cliché.'

She smiled wanly. 'I miss our talks.'

'Me too.'

Impulsively, she hugged him; a brief, but hard one. 'I'll let you know what I've decided.'

'Of course,' he whispered in her ear.

She stepped back from him; then turned and walked away.

He stayed where he was.

He was on his own.

* * *

 **A/N: It sounds bleak at the moment, but I repeat my promise that there will be a happy ending. For Dramione, at least. Not everyone can get off scot-free, right?**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: This is the duel chapter… deep breaths, everyone**

Due to the fact that duelling (outside Defence of the Dark Arts classes) was a whopping great big no-no at Hogwarts, the particulars had to be organised with a great deal of stealth and secrecy.

So naturally, come the day of reckoning, all senior Slytherins knew about it, along with a fair swag of senior Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

Those students who were more concerned about keeping their school records shiny bright than watching a violent fight, shook their heads and wished they hadn't heard. Still, a reasonable number of students sneaked out of the school before the appointed time and tip-toed their way to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry was not one of the Gryffindors who knew about the duel. But it didn't escape his notice that Dean and Seamus were acting more oddly than they normally did. And that Ron was missing. When the pair oh-so-casually left the Gryffindor Common Room, pulling on their outside robes, Harry's sixth sense tingled; and he decided to follow them.

'What's up, boys?' Harry asked sweetly from the vestibule archway as the duo entered the courtyard.

Dean and Seamus jumped a mile high and whirled around.

'Harry!' Seamus exclaimed too happily. 'How are ya, mate?'

Harry ignored him. 'Where are you two going?'

Dean and Seamus exchanged worried looks. 'Just out for a constitutional,' stammered Dean. 'Lovely day and all that.'

'Bullshit,' Harry snapped. 'Tell me what's going on or I'll send a _Patronus_ to McGonagall.'

'No! Don't!' Seamus yelped. 'We'll tell ya. We didn't feel right keeping it from you, to be honest.'

'Keeping what from me, then?' demanded Harry.

Another exchange of glances between Seamus and Dean; then they beckoned him closer. Lowering his voice, Dean said 'Ron and Zabini are going to duel Malfoy and whoever his second is. Ron didn't want you to know, since he reckoned you'd hit the roof and try and stop it somehow.'

Of all the things Harry had been expecting them to confess, this was nowhere near on his list. It was absurd. It was beyond ridiculous.

It had the ominous ring of truth about it.

Harry opened and closed his mouth. He cleared his thoughts, tamped back his anger, and asked 'When and where?'

'In a few minutes. At the clearing in the Forbidden Forest.'

Harry nodded. Then he took off.

Dean and Seamus scrambled to keep up.

* * *

Draco, standing with Theo at one end of the forest clearing, noticed Potter bursting in as if he had winged feet. Thomas and Finnegan showed up afterward, gasping for breath and looking ill.

Draco smirked. More witnesses to join the motley crew of lookie-loos already lining the edge of the clearing.

On any other day, the scene would have looked breathtaking. The sky was a clear blue, and the ancient trees surrounding the clearing looked stunning in their beautiful, leafy gowns of gold, red and green. Rather apt for a Slytherin/Gryffindor – Slytherin showdown.

This place would be perfect to take Hermione on a picnic, thought Draco. The leaves would look beautiful against her skin. Twined in her hair.

With regret, he forced the image from his mind.

Harry stormed up to Ron, who was talking to Blaise with his back turned. Harry shoved Ron hard in the shoulder.

'Ow!' said Ron, rubbing his shoulder and turning around. 'What do you think you – oh.' His face morphed from anger to disappointment when he saw Harry standing in front of him, looking apoplectic.

'What in Merlin's name do you think you're fucking doing?' Harry bellowed. He cast an angry glare at Blaise, Draco and Theo. 'All of you?'

Blaise, Draco and Theo stared at him in silence.

'Stay out of this, Harry,' Ron snapped. 'That bastard's ruined my sister' –

'Oh, surely that's an overreaction' –

'RUINED my sister!' Ron continued. 'He's been screwing around with girls for years, fucking them and kicking them to the kerb. He needs to be taught a lesson.' He scowled at Draco, who raised an supercilious eyebrow.

'Wasn't the two of you beating the crap out of him enough?' Harry grabbed Ron's arm and shook him. 'What the hell's gotten into you?'

'You don't know what it's like!' Ron bawled. 'To have your sister or your girlfriend defiled! You don't know what it's like to find out that all this shit's been going on with you none the wiser!'

'What about all the girls you've slept with? What about how you treated Lavender?' Harry waved his arms in the air in frustration.

'It's not the same!' Ron screamed.

'Potter.'

Harry turned and looked at Draco, who beckoned him over.

Cautiously, Harry backed away from Ron, and strode through the carpet of leaves to Draco and Theo.

'You're not going to get him to change his mind,' Draco said quietly. 'In fact, by rousing his temper, you could be making things worse.'

Harry conceded the point. 'Well, would you consider forfeiting?' he asked without much hope.

Draco smiled. 'You don't think I've been asked that question already?' He indicated Theo, who looked at Harry and nodded shortly.

'I'll tell you what I told Theo,' said Draco. 'Weasley and Zabini need to get this out of their systems. If they don't, either because I forfeited or told the Professors, they could well do something that's a hell of a lot worse than this.'

'What could be worse than this?' cried Harry.

'Well, I'd rather not think about it.'

'Jesus Christ!' Harry spat.

Draco looked amused. 'I don't think your God can save this situation. But thanks for the offer.'

Harry sighed. 'This is insane.'

'I don't disagree.'

Harry sighed and turned, on his way back to the other side, but Draco stopped him. 'Since you're here, can you do something for me?'

Harry turned back. 'What is it?'

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with a silvery essence. In a low voice, he said 'Parkinson's orchestrated this entire affair. She wanted me to seduce Ginny in order to get revenge against Blaise for dumping her. And when I refused to take her virginity, I'm certain Pansy wrote the letters that's led to this situation.'

He stopped and looked Harry straight in the eye.

'If something happens to me in this duel, take this to Snape and Dumbledore. All of my relevant memories are in it.'

Harry nodded, dumbfounded.

'Promise,' Draco said tersely.

Harry swallowed. 'I promise,' he whispered. He collected the vial from Draco, then impulsively shook his hand. 'Good luck.'

Draco smiled briefly. Sadly.

Harry remembered one last thing. 'What about Hermione? Is there anything you want me to do?'

Draco looked pained at the mention of her name, but he quickly schooled his features back to a blank face. He pulled out a sealed letter from a pocket close to his chest. 'Give her this,' he whispered. 'Tell her I loved her. More than anything.'

With a lump in his throat, Harry pocketed the items and turned away.

* * *

Harry knew it was pointless, but he had to try.

Harry and Blaise stood off to one side.

'Are you certain you want to go through with it?' Harry asked.

Blaise nodded shortly. 'He humiliated me.'

'But you're Ron's second,' Harry argued. 'You could be duelling Nott, not Malfoy. I thought you two were friends.'

Blaise swallowed, but his eyes were hard. 'He's indicated where his loyalties lie.'

One last shot, Harry thought desperately. 'What if this gets out? They'll strip you of your Head Boy title. Or worse, expel you.'

Blaise glared at Harry. 'Then people had better not talk, had they?'

Harry sighed again. At least Blaise didn't threaten to _obliviate_ everyone.

* * *

Finding a safe spot to watch the upcoming carnage, Harry took a look around the clearing to see who the co-conspirators to this duel were. Crabbe and Goyle, obviously. The Greengrass sisters and Bulstrode.

No Pansy.

That was odd. Harry was certain she would have known about the duel, given her associations with the Greengrasses and Bulstrode. He curled his lip. No doubt she didn't want to be found standing too close to the taint of her treacherous deeds. The first – or maybe the second thing he was going to do when this was all over is dump that bitch from a great height.

From Gryffindor, in addition to Dean and Seamus, was a scared-looking Neville and Parvati. Boot and Goldstein were there from Ravenclaw, along with Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff.

Everyone looked deadly serious, aside from Crabbe and Goyle, who looked like two excited kids waiting for the amusement devices to open for the day at a theme park.

Goldstein, the poor bloke, had been roped in to oversee and outline the rules.

He waved Ron and Draco forward. They stood, looking (or glaring, in Ron's case) at each other, both minus their robes, dressed in their shirts and vests.

Harry shivered on both their behalfs.

Goldstein cleared his throat and announced:

'The purpose of this duel is to satisfy the honour of Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini. Draco Malfoy is the one accused of slighting their honour. Weasley and Malfoy will duel. Zabini and Nott are the seconds.

'This is not a duel to the death. Honour will be satisfied when one party inflicts an injury to the other party that is significant enough for that party to no longer continue duelling. Do you both agree to these rules?'

'I do,' said Draco clearly.

Ron scowled, and muttered 'I do.'

Goldstein sighed. 'Bow, and take your places.'

Draco nodded to Ron. Ron's head moved forward barely a fraction of an inch.

They turned, and marched to their places at opposite ends of the clearing.

'Oh, gods,' moaned Parvati. 'They're actually going to do it!'

Neville held her tight.

* * *

 _'Lacarnum Inflamarae!'_ shouted Ron, hurling a ball of flame towards Draco.

Draco ducked as he threw up a shield to block it. The Weasel's not starting off slow, then. He released the shield, and waited for Ron's next gift.

 _'Everte Statum!'_

Draco staggered back a few paces, but his shield charm absorbed most of it.

 _'Petrificus Totalus!'_ hollered Ron.

Draco smirked as he blocked it. Really? A First Year charm?

 _'Ventus!_ ' cried Ron again.

Draco blocked it, but with difficulty. The wind was pretty strong.

And so it continued.

Harry dodged the spectators and stood next to Theo, who may have had his arms crossed, but was clutching his wand so hard his fingers were white. 'What on earth is Malfoy doing?' whispered Harry. 'Why is he just blocking?'

'He doesn't want to hurt Weasley,' Theo said with his teeth gritted. 'He doesn't want to face Hermione and tell her that he injured one of her closest friends. Reckons he's done enough damage.'

'Oh, gods,' groaned Harry.

Ron, meanwhile, got more and more worked up each time Draco blocked him. 'Come on, you coward!' hollered Ron. 'Show some spine for once in your sodding life and fight!'

Draco supposed he could toss the odd bone Ron's way. He pointed his wand. _'Avis Oppugno!'_

A swarm of birds shot from his wand and soared towards Ron. Ron was a little slow to completely repel them, and a couple of birds, intent on making a nest in Ron's fire-red thatch, proved a little difficult to shoo away.

Draco waited patiently until Ron was bird-free.

Red-faced, Ron spat on the ground. 'I'm sick of you, Malfoy!' he sneered. 'Always looking down on us! Thinking you're better than us! You're not even capable of putting up a decent fight!'

He brandished his wand and sent a strong stinging hex to Draco.

It ripped through the sleeve of his left arm, and a painful red welt rose up on his skin. Draco winced, but refused to reciprocate. 'I'm not going to fight you, Weasley,' he called out.

Ron went red. And saw red. 'What the hell?' he hollered.

'Look. Just hit me with something that will temporarily incapacitate me and we'll call it quits, all right?'

Ron barked with laughter. 'You're joking, right?'

Draco shook his head. 'I'm not! I'll show you.'

And to the spectators' horror, he threw his wand aside.

'Draco! What the hell are you doing?' yelled Theo, as white as a ghost.

Draco glanced quickly at Theo and Harry. 'I'm ending it,' he said simply.

He turned back to Ron. 'Come on, Weasel,' he sneered. 'I don't have all day.'

Ron gripped his wand in such a rage it was a miracle it didn't break. 'You cowardly, lying, cheating, whoring, rich bastard, stuck-up, pretentious son of a mother-fucking bitch!' he screamed. 'I've always hated your fucking guts, and I always will!'

He raised his shaking wand. _'Avada Kedavra!'_

Draco's eyes widened.

He watched the green beam of light saunter towards him as if it was in slow motion. Like he had all the time in the world to step out of its path. Trouble was, his feet preferred to stay where they were.

So this is how I'll die, he thought.

He wished he could have seen Hermione one last time. Touched her lips.

Kissed her goodbye.

Dimly, he heard someone yelling something, off to his side.

The last thing he saw was a bright flash of light colliding with the green beam, even as its tendrils reached out, like a lover, to touch him.

* * *

The clearing erupted in a panicked cacophony of screams and shouts. The Slytherin spectators legged it as soon as they realised what had happened. You'd have to be an idiot to hang around in a place where an Unforgivable curse was cast.

And by a Gryffindor, no less! They all agreed - they never saw that one coming.

Theo and Harry sprinted to where Draco's body lay among the jewelled leaves. They rolled him over so that he faced the sky.

'Draco! Draco, can you hear me?' Theo asked, blinking past the tears in his eyes.

Harry, only slightly calmer, put his ear to Draco's chest. 'His heart's still beating,' he assured Theo, 'but it's irregular.'

'Oh, gods!' Theo moaned.

'H-Harry?'

He turned around. Blaise and Ron stood there, looking white. 'Is – is he dead?' Ron whispered.

Harry scowled. 'Not yet, no thanks to you.'

'Thank gods,' murmured Blaise, looking wretched.

A flash of grey, white and black flew past Harry and launched itself upon Ron. 'You fucking crazy lunatic!' Theo hollered, punching Ron in the jaw and sending him spiralling to the ground. 'You used an Unforgiveable curse on an unarmed wizard! Are you a bloody nutcase? I hope you rot in Azkaban for what you've done!'

Blaise pulled Theo off Ron and dragged him away.

'Yeah, Ron, Azkaban,' snapped Harry. 'If Malfoy dies, that's where you're going for certain.'

Ron looked even whiter than before, aside from the angry red mark mushrooming on his jaw. 'Oh, shit,' he gibbered. 'I – I didn't mean to…'

Harry held up his hand. 'I don't have time to listen to your excuses, Ron. Just go away, all right?' He turned to the rest of the shocked spectators. 'All of you! Just go away!'

Ron nodded and stumbled away with the others while Harry conjured his _Patronus._

* * *

Hermione and Jason were auditing the Infirmary supplies when an imposing _Patronus_ stag galloped down the aisle of beds and skidded into their storeroom.

'Hermione,' cried the stag in a panicked Harry's voice,' Malfoy and Ron had a duel, and Ron used the killing curse. I managed to deflect most of it, but Malfoy was hit with the last vestiges. He's unconscious, his heart isn't beating regularly and his breathing's stupidly shallow. And getting worse. I need you to come to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. You have to heal him. Don't waste a second!'

The stag looked at Hermione sorrowfully, then disappeared.

Jason could barely believe his ears. Weasley and Malfoy duelling? Weasley using the killing curse? Did he wake up in another dimension this morning?

Hermione, although her face was deathly pale, had already grabbed a medical kit and was tornado-ing around the supply room, throwing stuff into it.

'What are you doing?' stuttered Jason. 'We need Madam Pomfrey!'

Hermione went up to Jason, stood on her tip-toes and yanked him down by his tie. 'The man I love is mortally injured,' she snarled. 'I am going to see him, I will do my best to heal him, and I will not think about anything else until I see for myself what the prognosis is, which may or may not include him dying within the next few minutes. You can either faff about and count sheets in here, or you can make yourself useful and come with me. Which is it?'

With wide eyes, Jason swallowed and grabbed a medical kit.

* * *

Small as Hermione was, she probably broke the wizarding world record for the fastest dash over the distance from the castle to the forest clearing. Jason, even with his much longer legs, had no hope of keeping up.

'He won't die, he won't die, he won't die,' chanted Hermione under her breath as she ran. She alternated it with 'I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry.'

Draco would laugh at this particular cliché, she thought. The girl, unsure about whether she loves the boy, realises, when he is on his deathbed, that she loved him all along.

'He's not on his deathbed!' Hermione shouted angrily to the heavens.

'Whassat?' yelped Jason, too far away to catch what she said.

She ignored him, found her second wind and put on an extra burst of speed.

'Hermioneeeeeeeeeeeeee! Wait!'


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Just to let you know I have no medical training whatsoever, either in our world or the wizarding world. So if I have described something that's plain wrong or impossible to do, all I can say is 'mea culpa.' Besides – I'm sure you're only here to find out what happens to Draco and Hermione, rather than laugh hysterically at my mistakes, right? ;)**

* * *

There were only three people in the forest clearing now.

Harry searched his brain for any first aid titbits he might have picked up from primary school or the TV, and covered Draco's rapidly cooling body with his and Draco's robes. Theo, slowly losing his grip on his ability to stay calm, offered his, and Harry used it to cushion Draco's head. That was all they could do.

That, and wait.

Harry would have tried _'Rennervate,'_ except it was useless against Dark Magic, thank you so bloody much, Ron.

Theo sat down next to Draco and pulled his legs up to his chest. He started rocking back and forth, his eyes never leaving his friend's face.

Harry prayed Hermione would get here soon. Things were bad enough as they were. He couldn't deal with another bloke in hysterics right now, not when he was getting close to approaching that state himself.

It felt like eternity, but it was only a matter of minutes before he heard the welcome sound of feet crashing through the forest's carpet of crispy leaves. Before Harry could say 'Thank Merlin,' Hermione burst into the clearing, clutching a medical kit and wearing her most determined, exam-sitting face.

She raced over in a whirl of leaves and sank to her knees next to Draco. She quickly put her hand on Harry's shoulder, a gesture of thanks, and glanced at Theo. Finally, Hermione steeled herself and looked down at the young man who had her heart.

His face was ashen and deathly still. His lips were tinged with blue, and his skin was cool. Hermione retrieved her wand with a slightly shaking hand and scanned his body. There were no serious injuries, save what was done to his cardiopulmonary system. There was a hex injury on his left arm, but that was the least of his worries.

An enormous crashing sound was heard in the woods, like an elephant had gotten lost and decided that the best way to find his way out was to tear down every tree in its path. Soon, a gasping and sweaty Jason Robards tottered into the clearing and collapsed on the other side of Draco, next to Theo.

Hermione didn't look up. She grabbed a pair of Extendable Ears from her kit ('They're better than stethoscopes,' she told an astounded Harry) and listened to Draco's heart and lungs. With each site she checked, her panic threatened to rise up and choke her. His lungs were only barely moving. His heart was fibrillating all over the place.

Without a word, she passed the Ears to Jason, who quickly repeated her investigation. He removed them, looked Hermione solemnly in her eyes and said 'We'll have to shock him.'

'What?' Theo grabbed Jason's arm, looking at him with wild eyes. 'You can't do that!'

'We have to, Theo, and we don't have any time to waste,' said Hermione as gently as she could. She recognised grief when she saw it. 'It will re-set Draco's heart and make it beat properly again.'

'Have either of you done this?' he demanded.

Jason and Hermione swiftly exchanged looks. 'No.'

Theo looked like his own heart was about to start fibrillating.

Harry moved over to Theo and put his arms carefully around his shoulders. 'Trust them, mate,' he advised. 'Hermione's a bloody genius. And Robards is great too,' he added.

Theo slumped. 'I don't want him to die,' he whispered.

'None of us do,' Harry said gently. 'Least of all his girlfriend.'

'Harry and Theo, I need you to stand back.' Hermione's voice only had a little wobble to it.

They backed away.

Jason pulled the robes off Draco while Hermione wrenched off his tie, cut his vest off with her wand and ripped open his shirt to his waist. An irreverent part of her brain sighed and wished she could have ripped his shirt off like this while he was alive, aroused, and looking at her like she was the most precious thing in his life. Not like this.

Hermione touched Jason's arm. 'If we use our wands for the shock and follow with Muggle CPR, I think that will give him the best chance.'

He nodded. 'Agreed.'

'Can you do the shock and compressions while I do the rescue breaths?' A tear gathered in her eye. 'I'm not strong enough to…'

'Don't worry about it.' Jason stood up and stripped off his robe. 'Stand clear.'

Hermione stood back, her hands locked together to stop them from shaking.

Jason pointed his wand directly over Draco's heart, took a breath and chanted the incantation.

A stream of red light burst from his wand and surged into Draco's chest. His body convulsed, bowing backwards off the ground before falling back with a sick thud.

'Fucking hell!' moaned Theo.

Harry totally agreed. That was horrible to watch, and he barely tolerated the git. He couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt for Nott and Hermione to watch.

Jason knelt over Draco, straddling his legs. He placed his hands over Draco's chest. Hermione scooted back and checked that Draco's airway was clear. Jason started counting his compressions. 'One, two, three…' while Hermione breathed into Draco's mouth.

'Harry!' Hermione called. 'Can you find me the Extendable Ears? I left them somewhere around here.'

With a cautious look at Theo, Harry ran back and rifled through robes and bags and leaves. 'Found them,' he said, holding them up.

'Thanks. I need you to position them for me so I can check his heart and lungs.'

Gulping, Harry sat on the other side of Draco's head and placed an Ear next to one of Hermione's. At her instructions, he placed the other Ear at particular sites on Draco's chest, moving them when she indicated.

'How is he?' Jason asked, still working through the compressions.

'No improvement,' she whispered.

Harry felt sick.

'We'll have to try again.'

Harry felt sicker.

Harry and Hermione scrambled backwards on their knees, while Jason stood up and pointed his wand at Draco's chest once more.

Another surge of red light lit up Draco's chest, and he convulsed into the air again.

When he landed, Hermione and Jason recommenced the CPR while Harry positioned the Extendable Ears for Hermione.

'His heartrate is stronger,' said Hermione, with a little crack in her voice. 'Breathing is a little better.'

'Good,' muttered Jason, still compressing Draco's chest.

Harry watched Jason, and it was clear the Ravenclaw was starting to flag.

'Robards, I can take over if you want.'

Jason looked up, but before he could reply, a hand settled on his shoulder.

'I'll do it,' said Theo quietly.

'That would be great,' Jason said, after exchanging a silent glance with Hermione. 'I'll show you what you need to do.'

Theo rolled up his sleeves and lost his tie while he watched Jason. Then the pair seamlessly switched places without disrupting the rhythm.

Jason sat down and shook out his exhausted arms while CPR continued.

* * *

'But he's making an improvement!' said Jason desperately.

'It's not fast enough! I don't know if his brain's getting enough oxygen; it could be severely depleted if he can't breathe on his own!'

'It's too risky!'

'He's still unconscious! His heartrate may be steadier, but it's still weak! Please, Jason, just one more shock. Please!'

Hermione did well all through this harrowing time, but now she was exhausted and scared. Tears fell down her cheeks as she begged for Jason's agreement to shock-treat Draco one last time.

They stood off to the side, arguing, while Theo and Harry continued the CPR. Harry baulked at the thought of having to take over from Hermione. There's not much he wouldn't do for his dear friend, but he drew the line at snogging an unconscious Malfoy. Luckily Nott said he didn't mind, so Harry took over the chest compressions.

Meanwhile, Jason was torn between his concern for patient safety and feeling like a massive shit for upsetting Hermione. But how did he know she was making an evaluation based on Draco's symptoms, or was her love for him, clouding her judgement?

Hermione wiped her sniffly nose on the back of her hand. 'Please, Jason,' she begged, absolutely wretched.

Jason sighed. 'All right.'

Hermione flung her arms around the surprised Ravenclaw and kissed him. 'Thank you,' she whispered fervently.

They both ran back to Draco.

* * *

Theo, Harry and Hermione stood back and Jason prepared to shock Draco once more.

Hermione held Harry's hand so tight his bones were grinding together. He didn't mind.

'Stand clear!'

The beam of red light shot into Draco's chest again.

This time Hermione manoeuvred the Extendable Ears. She checked Draco's lungs. Left lung – steady, rising and falling on its own. Right lung – stronger, also moving steadily on its own.

Her heart banged against her ribs.

She listened to his heart. Oh, dear gods.

She looked up at Jason with tears streaming down her face.

His own went ashen, and he stopped the compressions. 'Tell me!'

Harry and Theo ran up to them.

Hermione was crying so hard she couldn't form the words. She gulped in large breaths, and in an unsteady voice, eventually said 'It's beating regularly. He's breathing.'

Harry and Theo stared at her like muppets, while Jason threw a most undignified punch into the air and shouted 'Yes!'

Hermione leaned over Draco's head. She checked his pupils using a muted light from her wand, and was overjoyed to see them retract.

'Draco?' she asked clearly, slapping his cheeks lightly. 'Can you hear me? It's Hermione. I love you so much, please don't go away! Draco? Please, darling, can you hear me?'

Draco's right hand twitched, rustling the leaves by his side. She took it in her own hand, and squeezed it. 'Draco?' she called, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. 'Please try and come back.'

Harry could barely watch. Theo couldn't turn away, but his hand was clamped over his mouth.

Draco's eyelids fluttered, and an odd groaning sound emitted from his mouth.

Hermione brushed her hand through his platinum hair and kissed his lips. 'Draco?'

His eyes slowly opened.

'Oh, my gods!' Hermione burst into fresh tears, threw herself over his chest and sobbed, not letting go of his hand.

The boys tactfully withdrew.

'I don't believe it!' Theo looked like he'd just seen a legion of Peeveses. He looked at Jason in awe. 'You did it. You saved him.' He swallowed hard, and held out a shaking hand. 'Thank you.'

Jason smiled tiredly and shook it. 'Couldn't have done it without you.' He turned to Harry. 'Nor you.'

Harry and Jason shook hands.

'Well, time for next steps,' said Jason. 'I'll _Patronus_ Madam Pomfrey. She'll need to oversee his care from now on.'

Harry nodded. 'I think Professor Snape needs to see this, too.' He glanced at Theo, who nodded.

Harry looked at the pitiful figure of Hermione crying over Draco's prone form. 'If I were Malfoy, I'd take my time getting better,' he mused.

'Why? asked Theo and Jason together.

'Because when he recovers, Hermione's going to kill him.'

* * *

 **The Infirmary, that night**

Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall stood at the foot of Draco's bed, having first cast a silencing charm so as not to disturb the sleepers.

Yes, sleepers.

Madam Pomfrey, after conducting a thorough medical assessment, put Draco in a sleep-state to give his body the chance to recover, including the ribs the boys cracked when they performed the chest compressions. She invoked a charm that monitored his breathing and heartrate. So far, so steady as she goes.

Hermione never left his side. She was currently curled up on Draco's bed next to him, as fast asleep as he was. McGonagall noted how their hands still twined together, and she felt a little teary.

Only a little, mind you.

'It seems a shame,' said Dumbledore softly.

'Perhaps, but the rules are clear, Albus,' McGonagall reminded him.

'I'm afraid I have to agree,' intoned Snape.

'You're right, of course,' sighed Dumbledore. 'Well. At least he's safe now. Let's review these memories of young Mr Malfoy's again, and work our way through the rest of this unpleasant business.'

* * *

When Ron left the forest clearing, he did what every frightened little boy did: he scarpered to his bedroom.

He wondered about the wisdom of this strategy when his stomach told him it was dinner time. He asked Neville, who popped into the dorm room briefly to pick up a book, if he could rustle up some grub for him. After Neville was finished with his, of course.

Neville stared at him, and left without a word.

Huh. No matter, thought Ron. He could ask the house-elves to bring him something.

He lay back on his bed and thought about what he'd like to order.

* * *

Blaise stood in the shadows of the Slytherin Common Room, staring unseeingly through the stained-glass windows at the lake waters.

The last of his rage washed away when he saw Draco fall to the ground. Now that his blood had cooled, he realised what had happened.

He'd been played.

All because he dumped her.

He'd done exactly what she wanted.

Now his life will never be the same.

'Poor Blaise,' a voice behind him cooed.

He didn't bother turning around. 'Pansy. Missed you earlier.'

Pansy, not a fan of talking to people's stiff backs, edged around and stood next to the stained-glass window. 'Oh? Did we have an appointment? An assignation, maybe?'

Blaise bared his teeth. 'Thought it was most unlike you not to be present at the scene of your triumph.'

Pansy affected a yawn. 'Did you mean that tacky duel? I wouldn't be caught dead.'

Dead.

The vison of Draco's near lifeless body, lying among the dying leaves, swam into focus.

'I know what you did,' he snapped.

'Talking in riddles, darling.'

'And I know why you did it.'

'Ugh. What a boring conversation,' said Pansy.

He gripped her arm as she tried to leave.

'Blaise, you're hurting me.'

He bent down and looked her closely in her face; so close they could have almost kissed. 'Thanks to your treachery, I'm going to be expelled,' he spat. 'I'm not saying this because I'm looking for sympathy.'

'Good. Because you won't get it,' she snapped.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'I'm saying this because if I'm going down, you're going down with me.' His eyes held a dangerous gleam.

'Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.'

He did, wiping his hand on his trousers with distaste.

Pansy preferred to flounce out of the room first whenever there was tension, but this time Blaise was faster.

He strode through the Common Room and out the door, knowing he'd never see it again.

* * *

 **The next day**

Ron knew he'd be in trouble for the duel, and for, well, what he did to Malfoy, but when his knock on Dumbledore's door revealed not just Dumbledore and McGonagall, but Snape AND his upset-looking parents, he wondered if he'd perhaps under-estimated the situation a bit.

'Ron!' Molly Weasley, who looked like she'd been crying for days, heaved herself up from her chair like an old grandma and stumbled to him. 'Tell me it's not true!'

Ron looked at his old man, then at McGonagall. 'What's not true, Mum?'

Molly sniffled. 'You didn't use the killing curse, did you? I mean, we taught you the difference between right and wrong, didn't we? You know what happens if someone uses an Unforgiveable curse!'

'Yeah, of course, Mum!' Ron didn't like seeing his Mum upset. He didn't like seeing his Mum upset with him. Especially this type of upset. He could handle the type of upset when she chased him around the house with a rolling pin, but this – this was heartbreaking.

'But it wasn't all my fault,' Ron began plaintively.

'Sit down, Mr Weasley,' Professor McGonagall said sharply. At Arthur's surprised face, she added in a softer tone, 'Not you, Arthur.' Eyeballing Ron, she indicated a seat with her head.

Ron groped his way to a chair opposite Professor Dumbledore. He noted that he was not offered a lemon sherbet.

The Headmaster referred to a piece of parchment. 'We have over a dozen witnesses that state you, Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy and Mr Nott engaged in a duel yesterday. Is that true, Mr Weasley?'

Yes, well, those witnesses would be hard to explain away. 'Yes,' conceded Ron, 'but' –

Dumbledore held up his hand, and Ron lapsed into silence. Arthur slumped down in his seat, resting his head on his hand. Fresh tears fell from Molly's eyes, and she blew her nose on a gigantic spotted hanky.

Dumbledore looked calmly at Ron after consulting his parchment. 'Is it true that you and Mr Malfoy both agreed that it was not a duel to the death, and only injury to the point of not being able to continue the duel was necessary to satisfy honour?'

Ron nodded vaguely. 'Yeah, sounds familiar.'

Dumbledore arched a hairy eyebrow, but said nothing in reply. 'Now,' he started solemnly. 'Is it true that Mr Malfoy refused to fight you until you goaded him, and even then, he used relatively harmless jinxes?'

'Harmless?' said Ron, annoyed. 'Those birds yanked out my hair by the roots!'

Snape and McGonagall shared a look and rolled their eyes, while Arthur looked at his youngest son with sorrow.

Dumbledore blinked. 'Yes, well, I confess I'm not a fan of birds who think my beard would make a nice lining for their nests.' He looked at the parchment once more, sighed, and laid it down on his desk. 'Mr Weasley, is it true that Mr Malfoy put down his wand and faced you unarmed?'

Ron sighed. 'Yes,' he said curtly.

'And that he asked you to temporarily incapacitate him?'

Another surly 'Yes' from young Mr Weasley.

'And that you verbally abused him, and then fired the Killing Curse at him?'

Molly sobbed softly. Arthur groped for her hand and held it tight.

Ron looked at them, then at his Professors. Not one of them was in his corner, supporting him. 'I had a reason!' he snapped.

'Please answer my question, and we can discuss reasons afterward.'

Ron crossed his arms and stared at Dumbledore defiantly. 'Yes,' he said. 'I did.'

Molly's sobs turned into loud, uncontrollable wails. Arthur tried to pat her on her back, but he was in a state of grief himself. Professor McGonagall headed to Molly's side to comfort her, while Professor Snape _accio'd_ some Calming Draught. It was either that or throttle the insufferable boy, he thought grimly.

Ron looked at his parents, feeling wretched. But he did it for Ginny! Their only daughter! They'll understand when he explained.

After the Calming Draught was administered, and sherbet lemons were distributed, Dumbledore reconvened the meeting. 'Now, Mr Weasley,' he started, quill and parchment at the ready, 'you said you had a reason for everything you had done. Please tell us why you felt you needed to take these actions against Mr Malfoy.'

Right. Finally!

'I did it because of Ginny,' he started earnestly. 'She'd been lured by Malfoy into doing all sorts of sexual stuff with him! At her age! And behind her boyfriend's back! She'd never do anything like that off her own bat! It had to be Malfoy's influence! He'd dishonoured her, you see? I was fighting to restore her honour!'

Dumbledore looked at him doubtfully. 'Were you not censured by Professor McGonagall for fighting Mr Malfoy a few days prior on that exact matter? Another fight, I might add, in which both you and Mr Zabini were the instigators, and in which Mr Malfoy did not fight back? Surely Miss Weasley's honour would have been satisfied at that point?'

Molly and Arthur looked at Ron reproachfully.

Why does everything sound so reasonable when Professor Dumbledore says it?

'More to the point,' the Headmaster added, 'Miss Weasley is of age, and is capable of making her own decisions. Did you ask her whether she felt she had been dishonoured before you inflicted harm on Mr Malfoy?'

Best not answer that question, thought Ron.

'He's been treating women like dirt for years, sir!' he said hotly. 'He's had more girls than I've had hot dinners! Just uses them and leaves them. It's not right! I had to do something! For all of them!'

Dumbledore looked at Snape, who shrugged.

'Well, that's admirable of you, Mr Weasley,' Dumbledore said. 'I know this might be an awkward question to answer, but could you give us the names of these upset and afflicted young ladies so that we may investigate further, and determine if they need assistance? Discreetly, of course.'

Ron's eyes slid sideways. None of the girls were upset or afflicted. They were just pissed off that Malfoy stopped shagging them, not that he started shagging them. He sighed. 'I can't, sir.'

Dumbledore nodded vaguely.

Ron had the impression that his impassioned speech may have fallen a little flat.

The Headmaster summoned another piece of parchment, and peered at it through his spectacles. 'Your school record' – and indeed, it was rather a long one, judging by the length of the parchment – 'indicates that your nature tends towards impulsivity. A very handy quality for a Quidditch Keeper.' He winked.

Ron smiled weakly.

'However, there are quite a few incidences where you have been censured for violent outbursts, making violent threats, and unfortunately, carrying out some of those threats. Including a number that occurred this year. Predominantly towards students in Slytherin House.'

Ron stared at him.

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and looked at Ron sadly. 'Do you think, Mr Weasley,' he said gently, 'that perhaps these recent events have originated from an insecurity or jealousy about Mr Malfoy?'

'What? Ron leapt up. 'What a fucking joke!'

'Sit down, Ronald, and apologise!' barked Professor McGonagall.

'But that – that's ridiculous!' blustered Ron. 'Why the hell would I be jealous of that poncy prick?'

Dumbledore cleared his throat. 'Because one of the witnesses showed us, in a Penseive, what you told Mr Malfoy while you duelled him.'

Ron went blank. He had to think.

… _always looking down on us…thinking you're better than us…rich bastard, stuck-up, pretentious…I've always hated your fucking guts…_

Ron sat down in his chair and crossed his arms. He was done.

Professor Dumbledore rested his joined hands on his desk. 'I'm sure you are aware, Ronald, that the punishment for duelling at Hogwarts is expulsion.'

Ron's cheeks burned, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. 'But the far more concerning matter is the Killing Curse that you administered.'

Ron's fists clenched.

'Thankfully, due to the quick actions of Mr Potter, you were saved from becoming a murderer.' He glanced at Molly and Arthur. 'But you still are, unfortunately, an attempted murderer. An alleged one, I should say.'

Molly dissolved into tears again. Arthur's face was white.

Ron glared at Dumbledore. He was being expelled, so what was the point in continuing the niceties? 'So what are you going to do?' he asked sulkily. 'Summon the Aurors and arrest me?'

'Ronald, please!' Molly begged through her tears. 'Don't make things worse!'

He sniggered. 'Mum, how could it possibly get any worse?'

'Mr Malfoy could still die,' snapped Professor Snape. 'That could make things a hell of a lot worse.'

'Oh, my gods!' wailed Molly.

'Ronald, stop upsetting your mother,' Arthur ordered sternly.

Dumbledore held up his hand for silence. 'I need to make a serious and life-altering decision,' he said. 'And I welcome the wise counsel of my colleagues' – he nodded at McGonagall and Snape' – as well as input from the folks who know Ronald best.' He smiled sadly at Molly and Arthur. 'I think Ronald would benefit from some time alone while we enter into discussions.'

'Whatever,' said new rebel Ron.

'Professor Snape, please escort Ronald to a quiet, secure area for the duration.'

'With pleasure,' Snape sneered. He glared at Ron and indicated the door with his head.

'Oh, Ronald!' Molly threw her arms around him, wetting his robes with her tears. He hugged her awkwardly.

'Son.' Arthur held his hand out, sadly, unable to look his youngest son in the eye.

Ron shook it, feeling empty.

With one last look back, he turned and followed Snape out of the office.

* * *

Ron looked around at the room that Snape had chivvied him into. Small. Plain. It had a narrow bed, a desk, some dusty old books, and a teeny tiny bathroom with the necessaries. It was situated at the top of a tall and tiny tower, so the small window overlooked the meandering lake and lots of clouds.

He tried the door. It was locked. He reached for his wand, but grimaced when he remembered that he had to hand it over to Snape.

He lay down on the bed and stared at the sloping ceiling.

Imprisoned.

Fucking wonderful.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: As I suspected, my description of Draco's resuscitation in Chapter 28 was a long way off accurate. A kind reader from med school gave me the correct information, but I wrote the scene to generate tension and drama, rather than go for medical accuracy. So, I've decided to leave it as it is.**

* * *

Hermione was still mostly asleep when she shivered. A blanket quietly settled on her shoulders, and she relaxed once more.

Wait.

Where was she again?

Omigod!

She sat up on the Infirmary bed and looked around.

And there he was. Lying next to her, looking like he'd been chewed up and spat out by a giant Kneazle, was Draco.

Alive, looking at her through heavily-lidded eyes and smiling softly. 'Hi, love,' he whispered.

'Draco.' Overcome, she hugged him.

'Ow! Ribs.'

'Oh! Right. Of course.' She lifted herself gingerly off him. She traced the outline of his stubbled face with a trembling hand. 'You probably feel like shit, but I'm so incredibly happy that you're alive so you can feel like shit. As opposed to feeling nothing at all and rattling around in your family's mausoleum.'

Draco's hand felt for hers, and she grasped it. Slowly, he bought her hand to his dry lips and kissed them. 'Pomfrey told me what you did. You and the others.'

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. 'I'm just glad it worked.'

'Owe you all a life debt.'

She shook her head. 'I can't speak for the others, but I don't want your life debt, Draco. I just want you. Alive, and healthy, and back to being the proud, cynical, arrogant prat that I love and missed so much.'

Draco smirked as best he could.

'I just want you,' she whispered again.

'Don't deserve you.'

'Maybe not,' Hermione winked, 'but I want you all the same.'

Draco squeezed her hand. 'When I thought I was going to die, my only regret was not saying goodbye to you.' A sole tear trickled down his cheek. 'But now, I never want to say goodbye, love. Never want to leave you.'

Hermione couldn't speak. She cradled his hand in both of hers and kissed it, tears falling onto his skin.

Never letting go.

She'll ask him later what was going through his tiny little mind when he agreed to the duel.

* * *

Ron spent more time in that tiny room than any of the Professors expected. They, along with Molly and Arthur, talked well into the night and the early morning. Just as well that a house-elf brought him meals. There was absolutely nothing to do but sleep. Or read books, which Ron scorned. He'd never voluntarily read a book in his life, and since he was expelled, why the hell should he start now? So, he occupied his time by ripping pages out of the books and constructing abstract shapes with them.

Snape eyed the papery mess with little surprise and much distaste when he finally came to collect Ron.

Ron was, curiously, not very curious to learn of his fate. But he dreaded facing his Mum again. His feet dragged, and Snape only just resisted the temptation to literally light a fire under him, in the hopes that it would hurry the ginger twit up.

But all good things must come to an end, and Dumbledore's study approached. Ron slapped an expression on his face that was a poor imitation of Malfoy's infamous smirk and strode in confidently.

He didn't quite make eye contact with his parents. Molly looked like she was at the end of her tether. Arthur looked utterly exhausted.

Professor Dumbledore indicated the same chair that Ron sat in before. 'Mr Weasley, thank you for joining us again.'

Ron slumped into the chair, silent.

Dumbledore ignored the slight. 'Returning to the subject of your future. As well as discussions with your parents, we spoke to some other relevant people, one of whom was young Mr Malfoy.'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'So he's still alive, then.'

'Ronald!' Molly leapt up from her chair, shaking with rage. 'How dare you be so disrespectful!'

Ron's ears burned. 'Sorry Mum,' he mumbled.

Molly returned to her seat, spotted hanky at the ready. 'It was heartbreaking to see Draco look so ill,' she said in a wobbly voice. 'And to see poor, dear Hermione, asleep from exhaustion next to him' –

'Whassat?' Ron asked, perplexed. 'What was Hermione doing there?'

'Why, she healed him,' Molly replied. 'Along with dear Harry and a couple of other boys.'

'Harry?' stuttered Ron. 'What, both Hermione and Harry have turned against me?'

'It is apparent that Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger are an item,' Professor McGonagall clarified. 'In any case, I hardly think that she or Mr Potter viewed saving Mr Malfoy's life as 'taking sides' against you.'

Ron could not believe his bloody ears. His head boiled with venom, and he took a deep breath and –

 _'Silencio!'_

The spell effectively silenced the torrent of swearwords that was going to spew from Ron's mouth.

Professor McGonagall looked at her wand, slightly abashed, then at Molly and Arthur. 'My apologies. I should have deferred to you.'

They shrugged, numb.

With a raised eyebrow, Professor Dumbledore resumed. 'Where was I? Oh! Yes. Mr Malfoy was drowsy but awake, and we were able to speak to him for a short time. As the injured party, he has quite an important role in the forthcoming developments.'

Professor Dumbledore looked straight at Ron and took off his spectacles. 'Mr Malfoy is adamant that he does not want charges pressed against you.'

Ron's eyes widened.

'It would appear you have Miss Granger to thank for that. Apparently, he didn't want to cause her distress by being responsible for your arrest and probable imprisonment. Despite what you did to him.'

Ron tried to speak, but he couldn't. He looked pleadingly at McGonagall, who sighed and released the spell.

'So, that means I'm free to go, does it?' he asked hopefully. 'I can go home?'

'Not quite.'

Everyone turned to face Arthur, whose face was very grave.

'Son,' he began, 'to say how disappointed we are in you' – he indicated Molly, who looked like a shadow of her former self – 'is a massive understatement. I never, ever thought I would see the day when one of my children tried to kill another person. What happened to the cheerful little scamp who wanted to become a Quidditch star? Who is this self-centred, rude and angry man that has taken his place?'

Ron felt like ten different types of shit.

'I'm sorry to say, son, that we don't want you at The Burrow. For a while, anyway.'

Ron gasped. 'Whaddya mean?' he croaked. 'Where will I go?'

'You will go to Romania and work with Charlie. Luckily, he has agreed to take you in, despite his shock and disappointment at your actions.'

Romania, eh? Ron supposed that was better than nothing. Eastern European girls are supposed to be quite fit, according to Charlie.

Arthur continued. 'In exchange for your absence from the country, Professor Dumbledore will not inform the Aurors of what happened.'

'Which, of course, will require your fellow students who witnessed the duel to be _obliviated,_ ' Snape added heavily. 'Miss Granger and Messrs Robards, Potter, Zabini, Nott and Malfoy will not be subjected to this process, and will have to be trusted to keep your secret.' His dark voice grew even darker. 'I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you do not give them cause to reveal it.'

Arthur nodded tersely, then faced Ron again. 'When you have atoned for your actions, you may return home.'

Ron barely heard him. He was daydreaming about hot, young Romanian birds.

* * *

Now it was Blaise's turn to sit in the hot seat. Molly, Arthur and Professor McGonagall were missing, but the game remained the same.

'Mr Zabini.' Professor Dumbledore took off his spectacles and looked at his former Head Boy sadly. 'I had such hopes for you.'

Blaise felt awful. 'I'm sorry, sir.'

'As a Prefect and Head Boy, you of all people know what the punishment for duelling is. And even though you didn't actually duel, you have admitted to us that you co-arranged it and had every intention of participating.'

Belatedly, Blaise recalled Harry's plea, and his own cold response.

'Yes, sir. I do. And I accept my fate.' He looked down. 'I let my pride and my temper cloud my judgement and was prepared to seriously hurt people who were once my close friends.' He sniffed. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered.

In the silence, Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other. It really was a shame.

'I'll need to notify your mother,' Dumbledore said. 'Do you have a means of getting home?'

'Yes sir,' Blaise said tonelessly.

Dumbledore sighed and stood up. So did Blaise.

Dumbledore extended his hand, and Blaise, after staring at it in surprise, shook it. Dumbledore covered Blaise's hand with his other one. 'Good luck, son,' he said sadly.

Blaise nodded, and turned to Snape.

His former Head of House also extended his hand for Blaise to shake. 'Keep using that brain of yours,' he advised.

Blaise nodded. 'I will, sir.'

Blaise headed to the door, then stopped and turned around.

'I have some information, sirs, that I think is relevant to the situation.' He looked at Snape. 'I strongly suspect that Pansy Parkinson is behind everything.'

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged looks, then Dumbledore indicated the chair. 'Would you like to have a seat again?'

* * *

Draco was propped up in bed, trying to make sense of Hermione's Potions notes and wondering if holding them upside down would make more sense, when Blaise appeared at the foot of his bed. He was in street clothes.

Draco put Hermione's notes down. 'I guess they expelled you,' he said.

Blaise nodded. 'Yep.'

'I suppose that's my fate, too.'

'What?' Blaise was astounded. 'But you nearly died!'

Draco shrugged. 'Still duelled, though.'

'Technically, you blocked, or fired the odd jinx.'

Draco smiled tiredly. 'Can you still become a lawyer? It would be a shame for the criminally down-trodden not to utilise your skills.'

Blaise shrugged. 'I'll look into finishing my year at another school. We'll see.'

He looked around him, and lowered his voice. 'I…' He sighed. 'Draco, I want you to know that I'm really sorry. For the fight, and the duel.'

Draco beckoned him closer. 'Don't worry about it,' he said.

Blaise held out his hand. 'Friends?'

Draco shook it firmly. 'I hope we'll always be.'

Blaise smiled a sad smile, said goodbye, and left.

Draco rubbed his eyes.

* * *

'Mr Nott, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.' Professor Dumbledore indicated the dreaded chair, while Professor Snape stood next to him.

Theo looked at them both, his eyes wide.

'Now, Mr Nott,' Dumbledore began. 'There is a very serious matter that I must discuss with you.'

'Is it the duel, sir?'

'Yes,' Dumbledore said tiredly, 'the duel. Please tell me, in your own words, what your involvement was. From the beginning, please.'

* * *

'So, if I have heard you correctly,' Dumbledore said, checking his parchment, 'when you found out about the duel from Mr Malfoy, you tried to talk him out of it, without success. You accepted his offer to be his second, and attended the duel with him.'

'Yes, sir.'

'You became alarmed when Mr Malfoy threw his wand aside, and asked what he was doing. Mr Malfoy replied that he wanted to end the duel, then he asked Mr Weasley to injure him.'

Theo nodded, recalling the events uneasily.

'Mr Weasley fired the Killing Curse, and Mr Potter, who was standing next to you, deflected most of it, but Mr Malfoy was hit by the vestiges, and fell to the ground, unconscious.'

'Yes, sir,' Theo whispered. He'll never forget that scene for as long as he lived.

'Then you and Mr Potter ran to Mr Malfoy, and established that he was still alive, although barely. Mr Potter contacted Miss Granger and asked her to attend. She and Mr Robards arrived, and they began to resuscitate Mr Malfoy.'

Theo nodded again. His throat had closed up.

'You and Mr Potter also helped with resuscitation.'

Theo nodded tightly.

'Mr Malfoy survived, and Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape were summoned to the scene.' Dumbledore looked up. 'Is that an accurate description?'

'Yes, sir,' Theo said faintly.

'Right.'

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look. 'What a terrible position you were put in, Mr Nott,' he said gently.

Theo looked up in confusion. 'Pardon?'

'You were a most unwilling participant in the duel, after having done all you could to try and dissuade Mr Malfoy. You watched your friend be hit by a Killing Curse, and suffered through his long resuscitation, unsure whether or not he would survive.'

Dumbledore cleared his throat. 'Normally, as you know, duelling is an expulsion offence at this school. But in your case, I believe you have been punished enough.'

Theo looked at both Professors in confusion. I'm sorry, what does that mean?'

'It means you're staying at Hogwarts, Nott,' replied Snape tiredly.

'Oh.' Theo sat back and prayed that the tears creeping up his throat would go away. 'Thank you, sirs.'

'If I may, Mr Nott,' Dumbledore added. 'Do you know if Miss Parkinson had any involvement in this affair?'

'Just from what Draco – er, Malfoy, told me,' Theo mumbled. 'He reckoned that she wrote the letters to Weasley and Zabini that told them about him and Miss Weasley, in order to get revenge against Zabini for dumping her.'

Snape closed his eyes in pain. He had a thumping headache. A Parkinson-sized thumping headache.

Theo used Snape's brief absence from his post to dash a tear from his eye.

'Thank you, Mr Nott,' Dumbledore said. 'However, if I may, could I have a word with you in private, please?'

Startled, Snape looked at Dumbledore, who gently indicated the door with his head.

'I need to take some headache powders,' said Snape. 'I shall return in ten or so minutes.'

Dumbledore waited until his study door closed, then he turned to the boy sitting opposite him. 'What a thing to have seen,' he said sadly. 'To witness someone you love nearly killed before your eyes. Feeling unable to help. I'm very sorry that had to happen to you.'

Theo raised his reddened eyes. 'I don't know what you mean, sir,' he said faintly. 'I love Lav – Miss Brown.'

Dumbledore smiled gently. 'And it's clear that Mr Malfoy loves Miss Granger. But I also see, just as clearly, that you and Mr Malfoy have a deep and special friendship, one that I hope will continue for a long, long time.' He adjusted his spectacles. 'There are many different types of love, you know.'

Theo nodded bravely, but to his horror, his body had decided that it had had enough, and tears spilled from his eyes.

Dumbledore stood up from his desk, walked around it and gathered the shaking boy into his arms.

* * *

Draco loved seeing a passionate Hermione. It made him think of all sorts of naughty, bed-related activities.

But this was the first time he'd seen Hermione in a non-sexual, passionate mood. Particularly directed at him.

'That's ridiculous! You're not well enough!' She crossed her arms and stuck her nose up in the air.

'Love, I am well enough,' he smiled. 'See? I'm out of bed and everything!'

It was true. Draco was fine, aside from the odd twinge to his ribs. He was dressed in his school uniform, his hair was perfect, his shoes were shiny.

'How can you joke?' she cried. 'What if they expel you?'

'Well, the conversation has to be had at some point,' Draco reasoned. He stepped close to Hermione and put his arms around her waist. 'There's no point putting it off.'

She hugged him, not too tight, mindful of his ribs. 'I'm scared for you.'

He kissed her forehead. 'I'll be okay.'

'I don't believe you,' she snuffled into his chest.

'I know. But I still want you to keep repeating it.' He pulled back and smiled. 'Want to walk with me to Dumbledore's office?'

She nodded sadly.

* * *

'Ah, Mr Malfoy! It is a great relief to see you back on your feet again!' Mr Dumbledore stood up from his chair and shook Draco's hand. Snape, standing next to Dumbledore as usual, may or may not have briefly smiled at his godson before resuming his usual stony expression.

'It's a relief to be back on my feet, I have to say, sir,' said Draco as he sat in the unofficial Chair of Doom. 'I'm not a very patient patient.'

'That I can believe,' smiled Dumbledore. But then he resumed his serious face. 'Thank Merlin for Miss Granger and Mr Robards.'

Draco nodded. 'I thank Merlin for her every day,' he said quietly. 'And I owe a life debt to Robards.'

Dumbledore nodded, then summoned his parchment and quill. 'I imagine you know why you're here, Mr Malfoy.'

Draco nodded. 'I participated in a duel.'

'Yes,' Dumbledore said heavily. 'Although I am informed that you did your best not to reciprocate Mr Weasley's attacks.'

Draco nodded again. 'But I still threw some jinxes.'

'You abandoned your wand.'

'Some time into the duel,' Draco argued softly. 'Sir, I feel like this conversation is a little topsy-turvy. Shouldn't you be the one justifying my expulsion, not me?'

Dumbledore smiled tightly. 'If there is any other way in which this situation can be resolved, I would be obliged to seek it.'

'I know, sir, and thank you. But I know you've expelled Zabini, who didn't fight. I did fight, even if it was to defend myself. I should face the same consequences.'

Dumbledore looked at Snape, who said 'You always were too smart for your own good, Malfoy,' but his usual sarcastic tone was absent.

'You're right, of course,' Dumbledore sighed. 'Expulsion is the only viable option. However, I have a proposal to put to you, should you be interested?'

'Of course, sir.'

* * *

 **A/N: Stay tuned for the conclusion to Treacherous Affairs! (Although an epilogue will follow).**


	30. Chapter 30

**This chapter contains the last Dramione lemon. Two lemons, technically.**

 **Read on!**

* * *

At length, Dumbledore, Snape and Draco's discussion ended, and the Headmaster changed the subject. 'Mr Malfoy, I have received consistent information about Miss Parkinson's involvement in these unfortunate events. Professor Snape and I have examined the memories you gave to Mr Potter. Do you have anything else to add?'

Draco was no saint, he'd be the first to admit it. And if he was honest – before he got to know Hermione, he was just as unprincipled, devious and heartless as Pansy.

How far he'd come.

Because he'd found someone he could love, and trust, and not be afraid to be himself with.

Whereas Pansy…

He shook his head. 'No, sir. I have nothing more to add.'

Dumbledore cleared his throat. 'Well, Mr Malfoy, I think that's it.'

'Yes, sir. But before I go, I hope you can you do me the honour of granting a couple of requests?'

Dumbledore's hairy eyebrows elevated. 'And what would those be?'

'First, would you mind waiting to write to my parents until after I leave? I'd rather explain in person what happened. If Father receives word of my expulsion before I get home, it'll take ages for Mother to calm him down to the point where he'll listen to reason.'

Snape rolled his eyes.

'Quite reasonable,' replied Dumbledore. 'And your second?'

Draco's cheeks tinged a little pink, to Snape's deadpanned amusement. 'Could I please stay one last night at Hogwarts? With Hermione?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'Of course,' he said simply.

'You're a romantic old fool, Albus,' commented Snape dryly after Draco left the office.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'That's the best kind of fool.'

* * *

'Oh, my giddy aunt,' Hermione breathed.

Draco smirked. 'Like it?'

'Like it?' Hermione spun around in a circle, her eyes huge with wonder. 'It's incredible!'

After Draco left Dumbledore's office, he was very surprised to find Hermione slumped next to the gargoyle, drowsing. She'd inconceivably cut two classes to wait for him. He gently shook her awake and told her what happened.

'I can't believe Professor Dumbledore expelled you!' she said hotly.

'He didn't have much choice,' Draco said reasonably. 'But he did say that I can continue my schooling at home by correspondence. Snape will take care of the arrangements.'

'Well, that's not quite so bad, I guess.' Then she looked downcast. 'I'll miss you, though.'

He sighed. 'I'll miss you, too. But I have some good news, too. That, and a surprise.' He kissed her nose.

'What's that?'

'Firstly, Snape and Dumbledore said that if I wanted to consider teaching as a career, they would be happy to apprentice me to Snape for a Potions Mastership. Despite my leaving Hogwarts 'under a cloud.'

Hermione raised a hopeful eyebrow. 'And are you considering it?'

Draco grinned. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

She threw her arms around him. 'That's fantastic news!'

'Well, if it wasn't for you getting sick, I wouldn't have found my vocation.' Draco tilted up her chin and kissed her. 'Just one more thing I'm grateful to you for.'

Hermione sobered. 'How will your family react?'

Translation: how likely is it that your father will slaughter you for choosing not to follow in his footsteps?

Draco smirked. 'Father will go mad. But Mother will make sure he'll get over it.'

They didn't talk for a little while.

* * *

Eventually, Hermione asked: 'You mentioned a surprise?'

'I did,' Draco replied. 'I don't leave until tomorrow morning. I've got permission to use the Room of Requirement tonight. With you.'

Hermione blushed, then smiled. 'One last hooray, then?'

He laughed. 'Indeed.'

* * *

So here they were, standing in Draco's transformed Room of Requirement. He didn't want the type of utilitarian room that he and Ginny shared, for obvious reasons. So, he went a little overboard.

He told Hermione to wear a summer dress, and he got into some Muggle shorts and a t-shirt.

They stood on a pristine, sandy beach on a tropical moonlit night. Before them, a cheerful fire, surrounded by a bed of stones, crackled and hissed, throwing red sparks into the darkness. They heard the hiss and moan of waves crashing and retreating on the shore, only to return again for another go.

To their right, a secluded beach _fale_ was surrounded by flaxes, palms and fragrant frangipani trees. Inside, a large bed was the only item of furniture. The sheets and pillows were white, with a leafy frangipani and hibiscus arrangement in vibrant red, white and green laid at its foot.

Hermione touched the arrangement gently, and overcome, put her head in her hands. Her shoulders heaved.

Draco took her into his arms and stood there in silence, holding her tight, while she cried everything out.

* * *

They sat by the fire on a large rug, liberally decorated with a white frangipani pattern over green leaves. Draco had tucked a red hibiscus flower behind Hermione's ear.

'I'll write,' Draco said. 'Every day, if you want me to.'

Hermione laughed. 'Do you seriously think you'll have enough to say?'

He traced the outline of her lovely, delicate face with his finger. 'About how much I love you? Want to be with you? What I want to do to your body when we next meet?' He kissed her lips. 'I don't think I'll have any problems.'

'Oh well, if you write, I'll reply.'

'Sounds fair.'

Silence.

'You could show me now what you'd want to do to my body,' Hermione murmured.

Draco thanked Merlin for this gift of her.

* * *

Draco ran his hands up her thighs, inching Hermione's summer dress higher while he kissed her – long, slow, passionate kisses. He was a little disappointed that she wore panties this time, but he soon found, to his pleasure, that she didn't wear a bra.

Nude, Hermione sat up and yanked his t-shirt off, then he scrambled up and hopped around like a loon trying to jettison his shorts and underwear. When the inconvenient items were finally despatched to who knew where, he descended to the rug and laid his body over hers.

Each kiss was sweeter, more beautiful, more romantic than the one before. Draco touched every possible part of Hermione's body, wanting to commit every curve, every bump, every part that made Hermione sigh, moan or giggle to his memory. She, in turn, was content to run her fingers through his soft, flaxen hair – gods, she was so jealous of it.

Finally, Draco brought a finger to Hermione's core, hissing when he found her wet and open. He actually pouted when she sat up and moved.

Hermione smiled and kissed his pout away.

'How are your ribs?' she asked.

Rather surprising time to play Healer, was Draco's opinion. Although, now he thought about it… He wrenched his mind out of that entertaining little gutter. 'They're fine.'

'Good.' Hermione put a hand on his sternum and pushed him back onto the rug.

'Wha -?'

Hermione's fervent kiss shut him up.

'I want to taste you,' she breathed against his lips, before taking his erection in her hand.

Oh, I see! thought Draco giddily.

But just as her mouth was a tantalising mere millimetres away from his cock, she looked up, biting her lip. 'Except I don't really know what I'm doing.'

Draco leaned up on his forearms, then reached out to cup her face. 'I don't care in the slightest, love,' he said. 'In fact, and I am aware of how incredibly hypocritical this is, I prefer you as a blank canvas, instead of a jaded player, like me. I want you to learn only from me.' He faltered. 'I sound like a selfish bastard.'

'You certainly are,' Hermione replied, 'but I don't mind. Besides, we're still learning what each other wants, and likes.' She leaned over, and they slowly kissed.

Draco leaned back on the rug. 'So, if you'd like me to teach you, how do you want to approach this?' he asked. 'Step-by-step instructions, or muddle your way through?'

Hermione looked up from examining his cock. 'Are you going to be grading me?' she asked suspiciously.

Draco raised his eyebrows. 'It's a pretty simple system. I come; you pass.'

'That simple, huh?'

'Usually is. It's also quite fun. Well. For me, anyway.'

'All right then,' she smiled. 'Lie back, and think of England. Or try to, at least.'

* * *

Draco's laughter turned into a moan as her perfect lips sealed over the head of his penis.

Warm, wet mouth and tongue.

She explored every part slowly with her lips and mouth, and it was eye-rollingly awesome, as far as he was concerned.

She wasn't sure what to expect from his taste, but he was clean and warm, with a slight taste of salt. She smiled.

Hermione worked her way down his length, licking it like a lollipop, not leaving a centimetre of skin untouched. She gripped him with one hand while she held back her hair with the other – until she felt Draco's fingers slide through. She jumped.

Draco's eyes burned as he met hers. 'Let me hold your hair,' he whispered.

Doubt flickered in her eyes for an instant. He understood. 'I won't hold you down,' he promised.

She smiled shyly, and let him.

Now she had both her hands, she explored him thoroughly. Learning how much pressure from her hand caused him to moan out loud; which pace he preferred her hand to work his cock up and down. How he loved her tongue to slide through the meatus at the top of his penis. She touched his balls with her fingers, and he almost leapt off the rug. Startled, she thought she had hurt him, but he begged her to keep going.

She decided to be brave, and brushed his perineum with her fingertips.

'Oh my gods, yes,' Draco ground out. 'Do that again.'

Smiling, she did, but decided to leave his arse for another time.

Working her way back to his balls, she hesitated – then licked one while she massaged the other.

'Gods,' he moaned. He needed to come soon, he could feel it. 'Put me in your mouth again, love.'

She did, swirling the head of his cock in her mouth while working it up and down and cupping his balls in her other hand. She could feel him tightening.

'I'm going to come soon, love,' he whispered, his breathing erratic. Hermione watched his stomach muscles ripple with his effort to hold back. 'You don't have to swallow, okay?'

Hermione wasn't sure what she wanted to do, to be honest. Still, he'd done the same for her, time and again. 'I'll see how I go,' she murmured, before returning to his cock.

Draco endured the torturous build-up to his orgasm as long as he could, then his vision turned white. 'Hermione!' he warned, although her name quickly became an oath as he came.

She was caught by surprise by how quickly he orgasmed. Before her name passed his lips, she felt the first burst of liquid hit the roof of her mouth. Then he ejaculated again, and again. She held her breath, and decided to swallow his come. It ran down the back of her throat, creamy, warm and a little salty.

She was a little proud of herself, to be honest.

When she finally looked up at Draco, he was leaning back on his forearms with his head thrown back, taking in deep breaths. He slowly sat up, running his hands through his hair and smiling.

He gently took her face in both hands and kissed her, humming as he tasted himself on her tongue.

'Well done, love,' he said against her lips.

* * *

Eventually, they moved to the bed.

Draco moved inside Hermione slowly, their bodies as close together as they could possibly be. He watched Hermione as expressions played across her face. Desire. Wonder. Bliss. Passion.

Gently, he made her come over and over, until she was shaking in his arms, on the verge of physical and mental overload. He held her while she drowsed, clinging to his body.

Hermione woke half an hour later, to find Draco propped among the pillows and herself drooling a little on his chest. She reddened as he laughed. 'Hello, Sleeping Dribbly.'

'You made this bed too comfortable,' she grizzled.

'I can uncomfortable it by a few percentage points, if that's what you want.'

'That may be in your best efforts. What if I fall asleep before you come again?'

He smiled and closed his eyes. 'Don't care, to be honest.'

She sat up and gently poked one of his eyes. He opened it.

'You're a seventeen-year-old bloke who has been having sex on a regular basis for three years, give or take. Don't you start climbing walls if you don't get any regular action?'

Draco tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. 'In the past, no doubt. But I've recently worked out what the best part of sex is, and it's not the orgasms. Although they are pretty cool.'

'Oh? What is the best part?'

He pulled her gently down onto his body. 'Being intimate with someone you love.'

Damn him, thought Hermione as she dashed a tear away. I think he's going to make me cry a lot.

In a good way.

* * *

They kissed, and once more, their bodies responded quickly to each other. Hermione straddled Draco's hips and lowered herself onto his stone-hard cock.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she sheathed herself on him. Draco's eyes were closed, so she wasn't sure what sort of eye action was happening over his way. All she knew what that she was absolutely and totally full with him, and when she moved her hips back and forth over his, the sensation of movement inside her core drove her wild.

Try as she might to control her movements, they became jerkier, the more aroused she became. Her head was flung back, and her hands were in her hair, holding it off her neck. Draco gripped her hips and gently bore her down further on his cock, in awe of her how body gleamed in the moonlight as she undulated over him.

He thrust upward into her, making her cry out in need. 'Draco…' she breathed.

He sat up, still holding her, so their chests touched. Still rocking into each other, they kissed deeply, desperately, letting passion take over where gentleness existed before.

Draco felt Hermione's pussy grip his cock and knew she was shortly about to come, right with him. Breathing hitched, they moved harder, looking into each other's eyes – and when their powerful orgasm hit them, their moans of release were captured in each other's mouths.

* * *

Draco left Hogwarts early the next morning.

Hermione went down to Hogsmeade with him to see him off.

Standing in the cold mist of the morning, they held each other tight. Hermione did her best not to cry. But Draco saw, and lightly ran his thumb under one of her eyes, collecting the sole tear before putting it to his lips.

'I love you,' he said simply.

'I love you too,' was her simple reply.

They didn't say goodbye.

With his kiss still warm on her lips, Hermione watched the train clatter away in a haze of smoke.

Until it was gone.

* * *

Pansy had overslept, and all of her Slytherin compatriots had gone to breakfast.

As she showered, she let herself once more revel in her extraordinary success.

Blaise was gone, serve him right.

That ginger bitch Weasley was gone, and also, as a bonus, her oaf of a brother.

And Draco was gone.

She supposed it was a pity he nearly died, that would have over-egged the situation. But he couldn't have gotten away with the way he treated her. His expulsion was acceptable.

She smiled. My, oh my, what a tidy haul.

* * *

Jauntily, she pulled on her uniform and paid extra care to her hair and make-up. She looked in her (repaired) mirror, blew it a kiss, and hopped jauntily up the stairs to the Great Hall.

Pansy sauntered into the Great Hall. Looked like a full house was present for breakfast.

A deathly silence fell over the cavernous room, where conversation, laughter and clinking plates resided seconds before.

Curious, Pansy turned around to see who had entered the Great Hall behind her.

There was no-one there.

Turning back, she saw that every person had stopped what they were doing and was staring straight at her. Including the Slytherins. And the teachers.

No. Not staring.

Glaring.

Narrowed eyes, furrowed brows, pursed lips.

Pansy paled. What on earth…?

Someone slowly got up from one of the tables. It was Harry; the new Head Boy.

As their eyes met in the silence, he pulled something from his pocket and held it up. She recognised it. It was vial containing someone's memories.

His lip curled, and Pansy took an educated guess as to whose memories they belonged to.

Draco fucking Malfoy, she seethed. If I ever see you again…

'Poorly done, Pansy,' Harry said simply.

She held up her wobbling chin as high as it would go. But – what was that noise? Are there snakes in the Great Hall?

No, Pansy. No snakes.

The students hissed at her, leered at her with their teeth bared. With their cutlery in their hands, they slowly banged on the tables, not looking away from her once.

Pansy's heart pounded. The entire school was against her. This can't be happening! she thought. Surely she's dreaming?

The bangs sped up, got louder and louder.

Pansy stumbled backward. Took another step. Then she turned, and fled the Hall.

Magically, Professor Snape's chilling voice carried across the hall and over the pounding knives, forks and spoons. 'Miss Parkinson, you are required to present yourself to Professor Dumbledore's office. At your earliest convenience!'

A sob escaped from Pansy's lipstick-red mouth as she ran.

* * *

Draco's time on the train was bittersweet. It was his last ride from Hogwarts – until he commenced his Potions training. He already missed Hermione, like a physical ache.

Malfoy Manor materialised into view as he appeared outside the gate. Home again, for the next few months. He opened the gate and wandered up the drive.

One of the house-elves had already opened the door, hanging off the ornate handle in wonder as Master Draco ambled up, looking relaxed and at ease, quite the adult in his black trousers, crew-neck jumper and overcoat.

'M-master Draco! What is you doing here?' it squeaked. 'Erm, that is to say, welcome home, Master Draco!'

Draco laughed. 'Thanks, Maple. Is Mother available?'

Maple's jaw was on the floor, a result of the shock of Master Draco a) laughing, b) thanking her, and c) remembering her name. 'Y-yes, sir, she's' –

'Draco? Is that you? What a surprise!' Narcissa Malfoy appeared at the top of the ornate entrance stairs, looking young and beautiful in tan jodhpurs and an ice-blue oversized cashmere jumper. Draco marvelled at how lovely she looked in Muggle clothing.

She ran down the stairs and practically leapt into her son's arms, already amazed at how handsome and grown-up he looked. She hugged him hard, and reached up to touch his hair. 'I can't believe how tall you are!' She searched his face. 'You look so different.'

Draco looked down at himself in surprise. 'I guess I have grown,' he said. 'It's been a very busy year. I've learned a lot.'

She pulled back. 'But the school year's not over, surely?'

'Not for another three months or so.'

Confusion knitted Narcissa's brow. 'Then why are you home?'

'I should tell you and Father together,' he said. 'Where is he?'

'In his study, I guess. He just received an owl a few minutes ago' –

She was interrupted by an almighty roar. 'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAS THAT BOY DONE NOW?'

Narcissa looked at her son with a sceptic eye.

'Well, looks like Father's received the letter from Hogwarts.'

She sighed. 'And what is in this letter?'

Draco took his mother's arm and leisurely escorted her to Lucius's study. 'Well, it's a rather long story…'

* * *

 **Up next: the Epilogue!**


	31. Epilogue

**A/N: Well, readers, here we are! The final words of Treacherous Affairs. Read on…**

* * *

The final few months at Hogwarts got underway, the events of the past year just a pleasant - or otherwise - memory.

Pansy, predictably, was expelled. Lavender told the other Gryffindors, who heard it from Theo, that as she left her room for the last time, with Filch staggering under the weight of her trunk behind her, she had to 'run the gauntlet' of the entirety of Slytherin House, who were none too pleased that two of their most popular senior students had fallen victim to her treachery.

They didn't make it too pleasant for her.

Harry, who despite everything, still missed Ron's jolly presence, a constant for most the past seven years, moved into the Heads' Dorm, thus becoming the portrait's newest object of her dreary affections. He and Hermione spent many warm evenings together, sometimes proffering shoulders to cry on, no questions asked, if one or the other felt the raw ache of loneliness a bit too much to bear.

True to his word, Draco sent Hermione a letter the day after he left Hogwarts. His haughty eagle owl landed on the Gryffindor breakfast table in amongst the detritus, nodded to her regally, and stuck out his leg that held the letter.

Accustomed to just having the mail land in her muesli, Hermione gingerly removed it, steering clear of its spectacular beak, and offered the owl something from the breakfast table. It surveyed the mess, gave her a baleful look and soared off, scattering a dozen slower, smaller owls to the four corners of the Hall.

She held her breath while she opened the letter.

 _My love,_ it began.

Her cheeks grew pink, then pinker as she read.

'How's Malfoy?' Theo asked after a discreet silence, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Lavender.

She smiled. 'In a whole pile of trouble with his father.'

Theo grimaced. 'Rather him than me.'

Hermione wondered what Draco's parents would think when they met her; but decided she'd jump off that bridge another day. Meanwhile, she should find out from Draco what his intimidating owl preferred as treats.

* * *

Finally, it was time for the Seventh Years to go. Clutching their final exam results (Hermione obtained the highest scores ever, of course), they listened to Professor Dumbledore's final, stirring speech – congratulating them on their success (a little over-hopefully in some cases), wishing them the best of luck with their future, and humbly asking them to fondly remember their times at the school that will never forget them.

Hermione was in so many tears as she said goodbye to friends and teachers that she even found herself hugging Professor Snape, to his extreme astonishment and her acute embarrassment.

'Very well, get along, Miss Granger,' he rumbled uncomfortably. He lowered his voice. 'Tell Mr Malfoy I expect him to be up to play with all the reading I have assigned him for next year.'

She smiled. 'I'll make sure of it.'

* * *

On the train, heading home for the final time.

When Harry and Hermione weren't conducting their final Prefects duties (making sure the passengers made it to London in one piece, clutching the same belongings they had when they started the journey), they shared a carriage with Lavender and Theo.

'Um, should we knock next time?' Harry said, entering the carriage with his hand over his eyes.

Theo and Lavender paused in their heated kiss. 'That would be great, Potter, thanks,' Theo smirked. He winked at Lavender. 'Given enough notice, who knows what we could get up to in here?'

She shoved him. 'You'll be doing it on your own.'

Hermione giggled as she sat down. She held out her hand. 'Hand it over, Brown, I want to stare at it in awe again.'

Blushing, Lavender held out her left hand, and Hermione once more marvelled at the beautiful solitaire diamond occupying her ring finger. Hermione turned it this way and that. It caught the late Spring sun, giving off a very light purple glint.

'Wow,' Hermione breathed. 'Theo, I still can't believe you gave Lavender a lavender-coloured diamond engagement ring.'

Theo looked pretty pleased with himself.

'Yeah, thanks, Nott,' grizzled Harry. Way to set the bar for the rest of us.'

'Oh, yeah? Who are you planning on proposing to?'

'N-No-one!' stammered Harry. 'But – you know. One day…'

Hermione smirked. 'How's your correspondence with Ginny going?'

He blushed. 'Yeah, it's going well. She'll be home for the holidays, and I'm going to The Burrow to visit her before I start my pro Quidditch try-outs.'

'That's great!' Hermione said. 'I'm sure they'll love to have you there. I imagine it won't be the same without Ron…' she trailed off.

All four sat in silence, each with their own memories.

'What about you, Hermione?' Lavender asked. 'What are your plans for the summer?'

'Well,' she began, 'instead of going straight home, I'm going to spend some time at Malfoy Manor first.' She put on her brightest face, which, of course, fooled no-one.

'It'll be okay,' Theo said reassuringly. 'Draco won't let anything happen to you. And his mother will love you. I guarantee it. She'd even love Parkinson if she was the one who saved her son's life.'

Hermione snorted. 'I suppose two out of three isn't bad.'

'That's the spirit!' cheered Harry.

* * *

At long last, the Hogwarts Express pulled up at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Hermione and Harry stayed behind, corralling over-excitable students, reuniting lost property with their frantic or forgetful owners and checking each carriage to make sure that no-one had fallen asleep and forgotten to disembark.

When they stepped out onto the platform, it was heaving with joyful students, parents and other close family and friends.

They hugged and kissed Neville and Parvati goodbye. They were off on an intrepid journey to Comoros, where the lush, unique vegetation in a volcanic setting held endless opportunities for Neville to get his hands dirty before he returned, with Malfoy, to Hogwarts to begin his Herbology Mastership.

Harry was on his way home to Grimmauld Place. After extracting a promise from each other that they would get together over the summer, he and Hermione hugged each other tightly.

'I don't want to miss you,' Hermione said, tears forming in her eyes.

'Me either,' Harry said gruffly. Then he looked around. 'I can feel someone glowering at me,' he smiled. 'Is someone here to collect you?'

Hermione smiled coyly. 'Someone might be.'

'Well, I'll leave you to your reunion,' he smiled. He kissed her cheek. 'Take care, Hermione.'

She smiled and kissed him back. 'You too, Harry.'

Collecting her bag, she dried her eyes and looked around for Draco. This, of course, was almost impossible to do, since she was a shorty.

'You look like you're in need of rescuing, Miss,' a voice nearby said.

She bit her lip to contain her smile. 'I'm looking for my boyfriend,' she said. 'Have you seen him?' He's tall, with blonde hair, grey eyes, gorgeous face, hot body, snappy dresser – does he sound familiar?'

The voice chuckled. 'Yeah, I think he's close by.'

Hermione turned around and she stared at the gorgeous young man in faded jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, ruffled hair and a sinfully sexy smile.

She took two sedate steps towards Draco – then ran into his arms.

He wrapped his arms around her and whirled her around before holding her close to him.

'It's been too long,' he whispered.

They kissed – a long, slow, heavenly kiss – as the passengers ebbed and flowed around them.

THE END

* * *

 **A/N: Well, folks, there you have it – Nevernik's Potterisation of** _ **Dangerous Liaisons**_ **, or** _ **Cruel Intentions**_ **for the readers who are younger than me.**

 **What an adventure! I hope you enjoyed it, even if there were a few places where you might have wondered what on earth was wrong with my head.**

 **If you liked it, please read the sequel** _ **Treacherous Affairs Part Two.**_

 **Once again, thank you so much for your time, attention, reviews, favourites and follows. I am completely overwhelmed.**

 **Hei konā mai (Goodbye for now)**

 **NeverNik**


End file.
